


The Sun and the Moon

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Cheating, Eventual Happiness, F/M, Reader Insert, Rejection, Suicide, Unrequited Destiel (minor), Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-20
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-26 10:02:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 49,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2647880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No one ever told you the heavens could be so cruel.<br/>Or<br/>In which your love is never returned</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In which you are closer to the Moon than to your Love

**'Alone. Why am I always alone?** ' You flipped through the channels on the small, grimy TV. Static filled the screen and jumbled voices echoed around the tiny motel room. You continued to look around, hoping that there might be something to ease your boredom. Finally, you found a channel showing blurry reruns of Star Trek. You settled onto the bed, kicking off your shoes. ' **It's so quiet in here,** ' you thought. **'I hate when they leave me here.** ' You groaned, listening to Spock infuriate yet another person. You were trying to deny it, but in all honesty, you were very lonely. You thought back to when Dean and Sam had found you.

\---------------------------------------------------------

(Flashback) It was your last year at college. You had loved the past three years. You were a very quiet person, and growing up you hadn’t had very many friends. You had gotten a degree in y/d and a minor in psychology. You got a side job as a therapist for people recovering from traumatic experiences, and you were thriving. It was a college experiment in the lab. You had one man who was a regular. He was middle aged, average looking. His family had been killed in a gas pipe explosion. He was pretty distraught when he first came in, but he had calmed down since then. He was nice, but you sensed there was something he wasn’t telling you. He came in exactly at 5:00 pm every week on Fridays. The last week of college, he came in with a red stain on his neck and his shirt was dirty. It was always very windy outside so you just assumed he had ran into a branch coming in. He was about five minutes late, which was very unlike him. Since the graduation was on Saturday, everyone was leaving early. He was your last patient. You waved goodbye to Angelina, your friend, who was leaving. As soon as she shut the door, he looked up and smiled. The blood drained from your face. His teeth were sharpened to a point and blood covered them. He grabbed you, stuffing a cloth in your mouth, and you recognized the smell of chloroform. You felt your eyes rolling back in your head. He bent towards you and you felt a sharp pain in your neck. Black spots overtook your vision as you faintly heard yelling and a numb pain in your stomach.  

You woke up what felt like ages later. A man in a trench coat was kneeling next to you, touching your forehead. You struggled away, gasping and kicking. You grabbed at your stomach, pain spiking out from the middle. The shorter man strode over to you, holding a bloody knife, blood splattered on his face and shirt. Your 'patient' was sprawled on the ground, his head face down, several feet away from his body. You scrambled to your feet, trying to run from the murderous men. Trench coat man grabbed your sleeve, but you yanked away, ripping the shirt. You walked backwards, holding up your hands. "Please don't hurt me. Please don't hurt me." You kept repeating this, adrenaline and panic mingling together. You tripped, running into someone. You gasped and looked to see a tall man with shaggy hair. You whimpered, running out of the room down the hallway. They ran after you. At the door, you tried to punch in the numbers to unlock it, but your trembling fingers couldn't hit the code correctly. An excruciating pain reared its head in your stomach, and you crumpled down to the floor again, curling into a fetal position. The men caught up to you, and you shrunk away from the touch of the tall one. You expected to be stabbed with! bloodied knives holding they were holding.

                "Dean, Cas didn't finish healing her." The one called Dean nodded.

        "Cas! Get over here." He turned to you, and noticed your uncontrollable shaking. "Hey, it's okay. I'm Dean, and this is my brother Sam. We won't hurt you."

You tried to say something, but you couldn't choke out a sound except for a whimper. The trenchcoat man knelt down next to you. Sam helped you to a sitting position. You actually took a look at your rescuers and had a passing thought of how handsome they all were. Trenchcoat man cleared his throat.

 "My name is Castiel. I am an Angel of the Lord." You stared at him, furrowing your brows. "I am going to heal you know." He put his fingers on your forehead and a gentle wave of heat washed over you.

"How am I alive?"

"I healed you," Castiel answered matter of factly. Dean spoke up, answering your unspoken question. "If you're wondering what that was, it was a vampire. He bit and stabbed you." You scoffed, but when he held up the blood covered knife, you shuddered and nodded. You glanced around his shoulder. Sam stood up.

"I'm going to take care of the body." Dean helped you all the way up, and when your knees almost gave out, supported you. You blushed a little, thankful for the dim lights. You punched in the code with unsteady fingers and walked out into the cool field. The moon was friendly and you smiled up at her. You loved the night. The stars flickered kindly and you felt warm and happy.

 "So, what's your name?" Dean asked.

"Um, y/n." 

"Where do you live?" 

"I live in the dorms over there, but I'm graduating tomorrow. I've got a degree in y/d and a minor in psychology." Sam came back out, wiping his hands on his jeans. Dean gestured him over. They walked away from you a little distance and started talking about something, probably you, from the way they kept glancing at you. After a few minutes of furious whispering, they came back over.

Sam cleared his throat. "So, y/n, what would you say to coming with us?" You frowned. "What would I do?"

"You seem to be intellectual, I mean, you're in psychology, so I'm sure you could help with research," explained Sam. "Besides, once you've seen that..."

"Where would I stay?" You wondered.

"You would stay with us."

You smiled gratefully. After that, you graduated with a bachelor's degree in y/d, and started hunting with the brothers. Castiel went back up to heaven. You would let them go out and hunt while you did the heavy studying. You had been with them for two years when you went on your first hunt, a dragon. Unfortunately, you didn't realize they could smell virgins, and seriously compromised the hunt. The brothers went to another hunt, a Wendigo, and you were left alone.

**When are they coming back?** you wondered to yourself. You heard the familiar purr of the Impala in front of the motel. You smiled to yourself, but then your smile faded. **What if they're angry?**

The door opened and a blood splattered Dean walked in. He looked angry. You started to scurry to the bathroom, out of his way.  
"Y/n," he barked. You squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself. You turned around and smiled weakly.

**All he does is look at me disapprovingly,** you thought, **and I grovel.**

He began, "I'm not angry at you." You choked back a laugh. **Is he kidding? I almost killed them. Of course he's angry.**

Dean gave you a pained expression that clearly said shut up. You tried to keep a serious look on your face. He tried to start again. "I'm-" The door opened. Sam came in, nodding at Dean to continue. "make that we, are not angry at you. We're just a little surprised. I mean, I would've thought--" Sam elbowed Dean. "But really, you have to tell us stuff like this. You almost got us killed! You almost got yourself killed! What if Sam hadn't gotten you out of the way? You would be dead! Why wouldn't you tell us that? Are you that stupid?!" His voice was rising on every word, and you did your best not to cringe. His words hurt.

"Dude, calm down." Sam whacked Dean's arm. Dean angrily shook his head and stalked outside again.

"That went well," you said lightly. Sam shot you a dagger filled glare and plopped on the bed. You glanced over to the bedside table, grabbing your phone and earbuds. Swiping through the playlist, you pressed shuffle a started playing y/f/s. Singing along quietly, you closed your eyes, trying to sort through your thoughts and how to apologize to Dean. **W** **hy do I always make such an idiot out of myself?** you wondered. Allowing yourself to become enveloped in the music, you drifted away to the lovely world of half consciousness.

You snapped out of your lovely mini nap as a finger poked you. Groggily you pulled out your earbuds, stretching your stiff limbs. You stood up, and nodded at Dean. "Hi," you greeted carefully. You noted he was clean, had a beer in hand and seemed considerably happier. 

"Hey," he said. **So just pretend nothing happened earlier?** You wondered. A smile was playing on those gorgeous, full lips. They were moving, and the way he moved his tongue should be illegal. And his eyes. Crinkling with amusement at the corners, they were deep green pools, vibrant like the sun and mysterious like a jungle. They sparkled and glistened, two emeralds that seemed so pure. 

But they weren't. You snapped out of your trance with his face. You touched the counter briefly before realizing he was saying something. You dragged your gaze away from his face to your hands. "Sorry, what did you say?" You asked. He chuckled and you swooned inwardly.

"I said, so you're our virgin? We should go out tonight." Your heart leapt. **Does he mean on a date?** He leaned in close, his warm breath intoxicatingly soft, and he said in a low, husky voice, "maybe you'll find a nice guy to sail that ship off to." At that moment you were irritated that he didn't mean a date, but you also wanted nothing more than to grab his beautiful face and kiss him, tasting that whiskey yourself. Before you knew it, he was far away again, and the moment was gone. You nodded. He handed you a book on dragon lore, and you went to read. Like so many other afternoons. You on one side of the motel, curled up with your music and a book, and Dean close by, on the other side of the room, but also a world away. 

 


	2. In which the Sun and Moon abandon you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I do not own Supernatural or Regina Spektor or John Lennon. (do I need to put this?) Also,listen to Regina Spektor's cover of Real Love and her song Firewood while reading.

The evening came. Like a cruel dark queen, the night swept over the sun, drowning her beautiful rays. Sitting in the car with Dean, watching the sun's final glory as she grabbed at the sky, the red and orange streaks swirling as she was darkened and faded. You used to love the moon, but the moon meant night, and night meant sleep, and sleep meant dreams, which were horrible things. Dean's music trickled past your earbuds, and you turned your music up. *Don't need to be alone, no need to be afraid. It's real love, yes it's real love...* You glanced up at the moon, wondering what everyone saw in her cold hard features. You smiled at her. She stared across the hills stoicly, her frigid gaze making you shiver. The Impala pulled into the bar too soon. You reluctantly pulled out your earbuds, muting your music's lovely sound opening your door. You winced, the hard rock a drastic change from the soft music you had been listening to a moment before. Walking in, Dean smirked at you and immediately walking towards some beautiful girls. They were stars. They only were beautiful at night, during the day they faded. But for now they bloomed, shimmering, like sirens, luring the men in closer for their pleasure. **'This is why I'm still a virgin',** you realized. **'I think too much**.' You spotted a guy with dark hair and sharp cheekbones, sipping a drink carefully. **'Not Dean but he'll do,'** you decided, walking over to him. You sat down next to him lightly. You surveyed the way he sipped his drink, the way his sharp eyes darted around the bar in an almost predatory way. The barman eyed you over and asked what you wanted. "Just some water." You wanted to keep a clear mind. You turned to the man next to you. "So, where are you from? You seem more...mature than most of these people," you said, trying to sound seductive. You eyed him, trying to look sexy.

The man chuckled. "You're trying to flirt with me, I can tell, but you're not my type. Sorry, you could be my daughter. Or sister." You stood up, unsure of whether to be offended or relieved. You decided to find Dean. He was with a star, a slim red head who was really beautiful. She had perfect skin and as far as you could see, she wasn't wearing much makeup. She was stunning, she glowed and she knew it. You headed in Sam's general direction, and somehow even he had found a girl. She seemed really smart and they were talking laptops, their heads leaning over his so close they were touching, giggling. Looking around, everyone had paired up. Except for you. You ordered a small glass of whiskey and watched Dean sweet talk another girl. His green eyes seemed so pure, so light. Except at night. At night, he was a snake, his voice honey sweet and venom, his eyes looking poisonous, his lips ready to strike. He wasn't pure. Suddenly you snapped back into reality. **What? Dean isn't a snake**.  You looked down and  realized you had finished several drinks and felt very fuzzy. Dean seemed beautiful again, his elegant fingers brushing over hers, eyes filled with admiration, desire. Eyes, shining, unique, that looked at every woman the same.

Except for you. You would never seen those eyes laced with anything other than amusement or irritation. He would never look at you like that. **You pathetic pity party.** Your heart stretched and as you downed a shot and saw them kiss, something cracked a little. You stood up and decided you would walk back to the motel. It wasn't far and you wouldn't be alone. The moon was there. Even though she was vain and cold, she was fair and would protect you. The danger of walking home alone in a city you didn't know, drunk, was never considered. You left. The cold wind nipped and picked at your cheeks, leaving prickling on your face. The moon ignored you, pulling a cloud in front of her face, dimming her lights. The stars around her taunted you, saying, "We are beautiful. See us shine. We are the princesses of the night, the magic people wish to. Who are you?" You tugged at your shirt, freezing. Close to you, the Impala zoomed back to the motel. The stars continued chanting, and you realized how drunk you were. You yelled at the stars. "I used to love you! Why have you turned on me?"

 **'I'm going to have  a major headache tomorrow....** You sighed and continued your walk to the motel. You unlocked the motel and let yourself in. And then went back out. The sound of a bed creaking rhythmically made you feel sick. Padding through the wet grass at midnight to the Impala, you started to question your choices. **Oh well. Too late.** You unlocked the car and put in your Regina disc. The opening chords of Firewood lulled you to sleep, and before you slept, you looked out the window and you could've sworn the moon smiled at you.

The next morning you were awakened by a prodding finger. A female voice said, "Who is she?"

 Dean answered, "My friend. I dunno why she's here though."

You sighed, blinking the sleep from your bleary eyes and yawning. The star had indeed faded, and she didn't look half as good during the day as she had last night. As you crawled out of the Impala, you felt two sets of eyes glaring at you. The sun warmed your back, and when they drove off, you waved at the sweet sun. Her golden hair curled around your cheeks. You made yourself presentable. When Dean came back, he questioned you about what went wrong the night before. You just told him no one was interested, probably because you weren't pretty enough. The thing that hurt was that he agreed. He didn't tell you you were fine. And he didn't care that you had spent a freezing night in his car while he hogged the room you were supposed to be sharing. When you thought he had gone out, you started crying. However, when the bathroom door opened, you realized, (too late) that Dean was indeed, still home. You tried to hide your tears, feeling ridiculous.

Dean looked very confused. "What are you doing?"  You sat, facing the wall. Your heart was pounding. He walked over to you and knelt down. "Are you..." he pushed your hair out of your eyes to see your face better. This simple movement made you want to melt. "Wait, you're crying? Why?"

You began to wish you had never come to them. You knew how Dean hated showing emotions, and you were a whirlpool of them. You shook your head, refusing to open your eyes, rubbing at them furiously. "Why are you crying?" Dean's voice was a little irritated, but he was trying his best to be soothing, you could tell.

 **Damn it. Who cares** **. Just tell him. The worst that happens is that it gets so awkward you leave and accept that job offer in New York, and that's not so bad, now is it?** You took a deep, shaking breath. Your words came out, a tumble of words, too fast and unintelligible. "I'mcryingbecauseyouwon'tevertakemehomelikeyoudothegirllastnight." He looked confused. **You said it too fast, you idiot.** You tried again, slower. "You'll never look at me like you do the other girls or touch me like them." You heard a choking sound. You bowed your head. You knew when you looked into his green eyes, your heart's fate would be decided. He put a single callused finger under your chin and lifted your head. You opened your eyes, dreading what you would see. A tug. Your heart shattered. You could feel your chest collapsing, your throat contracting. He was talking, but his eyes were his weakness. You could tell what he was thinking just by looking at his eyes. Your hands flew to your mouth. And a choked, strangled sound, much like a wounded animal came out. He looked distressed. His lips were moving, apologizing. You nodded, stumbling out into the woods. You ran, not thinking, just running and sobbing until you reached an open field. The intoxicating man, the man you would walk a thousand miles for, rip your heart out for, didn't love you. You looked at the sun, blazing and fiery. Her features had hardened, and she pulled the clouds over her face like the moon. The clouds cried with you, and you realized neither the sun nor the moon cared for you.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Would ya look at that! Kudos! (what is the plural of kudos even?) Keep sending the love, loves.


	3. In which you fail to be a Star

You sat in the field, letting the rain wash away your tears and pain. You composed yourself as best as a heartbroken, blubbering, soaked person could and made your walk of shame back to the motel. You took deep, even breaths and made exaggerated facial expressions while you walked, trying to hide the fact you had been crying. By the time you returned, it was pouring so hard you couldn't see two feet in front of you and you felt no more pain, just numbness. You let yourself in. Dean leaped up from the chair and ran over to you. He was a mixture of apologizing and yelling at you for running away without saying anything, but your numbness blocked it out. You smiled briefly, trying to maintain a cool persona and not show your broken heart. 

"It's alright Dean. You can't love someone if you don't. I understand." The problem was you didn't understand. You wanted someone to love you, and that someone didn't. Physical pain swirled in your chest, and you were struggling not to burst into sobs. Your voiced wavered slightly as you said, "I hope we can still be friends. You don't hate me, right?" Your attempt at a joke was weak, and your laugh sounded phony even to you. "I'm soaked, so I'm going to shower." You slipped into the bathroom, locking the door. You started to run a bath, and a few stray tears trickled down your face. You angrily brushed them away, trying to listen to the conversation in the other room. It was Dean telling Sam what happened.

"So I just did this girl, right? I'm was trying to drive her home in the morning because she was too hungover to walk. I open the door, and y/n's sleeping in the Impala! Then I come back, ask her how the night went, and she won't say anything. Then she bursts into tears and says she loves me! I mean," Dean's voice lowered and you had to press your ear to the wall to hear the muffled conversation. "She's a nice kid, but just not my type. She's got a horrific temper, and she thinks too much and freaks herself out." He said more, but you pulled away, your eyes dry. Normally you would be angry to hear someone talking about you like this, but this was what he sincerely thought, and you knew it was true.

You climbed into the bath tub, letting the warm water seep through your hair and envelop you in its warm embrace. You closed your eyes, humming softly. You were sad and numb at the same time, a crumbling pile of emotions. You stood up, not able to handle the silence anymore. Pulling the plug, you watched the water rush down the drain. **Why can't my emotions do that?  
** you wondered bitterly. Wrapping your hair in a towel, you pulled on a shirt and jeans, scrutinizing your face in the foggy mirror. You decided you simply weren't striking and pulled out your makeup bag. You applied heavy coats of mascara, smeared your skin with foundation and lined your eyes. You had told yourself, once upon an time, that you would not wear makeup, but here you were, your resolve weakened, caking your face with makeup. **I may not be his type naturally, but I can try to make myself like on of his stars,** you told yourself. You walked out of the bathroom, wearing tight jeans and a daringingly low tank top. Sam turned to greet you, but when he saw you, his eyes bulged out and he looked sick. 

You purred, "Hello, Sam."

"Hey, y/n," he answered cautiously. Dean was watching you, looking half amused and half pitying. You opened the small refrigerator and pulled out a beer, making sure to show off your ass as you did so. Sam mumbled an excuse and left, and you popped open the beer, drinking it slowly, like a commercial. Dean looked very concerned. You were starting to get irritated. **How come he's not responding?  
** you fumed inwardly. Finally your temper got the best of you and you asked grumpily, "What? You said I wasn't your type. I can be your type!"

Dean walked towards you. "I thought you said you were fine with my...not liking you. This isn't going to turn me on. That just isn't you. Plenty of other people will like you how you are. But not me. You're like my sister." You had already known this, but hearing it from him hurt again. You suddenly felt very stupid for dressing up like this.

You muttered that you knew and made an excuse for why you had put on all that makeup and ran to the bathroom. **What was I thinking? I'm so stupid!** You scrubbed the makeup off. When you came back out for the second time that day, Sam was back. When he saw you were wearing normal clothes, he visibly relaxed.

"Dean, I found a case. It's about 300 miles from here. Apparently a ghost was summoned by some kids and is haunting a church." Dean glanced at you to make sure you were mentally stable and nodded.  
"Let's leave."  
You silently began packing your things, avoiding direct eye contact with either of the boys. Your face was burning with embarrassment, and Sam looked like he was bursting with questions. The car ride was long and awkward, with Sam trying to make small conversation to cover your silence. Dean turned on his music, and you switched it off. He glared at you, but you just watched the landscape rush by. The sun was out, but it was too bright, and steam rose from the road. The sun had faded and set by thee time you arrived at the motel, and the full moon of the night before was gone, and the sky was dark, with the clouds blocking the twinkling stars.  
 **The moon is hiding from me. ******you thought sullenly.

You were exhausted emotionally and physically by the time you got out, and you went straight to bed.

You heard Dean and Sam talking outside, and they drove off to the bar, leaving you alone without the moon. **That's what you get for playing dressup,** you scolded yourself. **You're as a effective as a comet. Trying to fake being a star and crashing and burning.** You hauled yourself to the window, searching the sky for a glimmer, but almost comfortingly, it was as dark and confused as how you felt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is a little bad because I finished it at *checks time* 4:56 in the morning...


	4. The Sun is not what burned you

You turned away from the sky, inwardly wrestling with your feelings before collapsing into the bed. The frame bent and creaked, grumpily accepting your weighty. You giggled, bouncing up and down and hearing the bed creak. **Why does this make me happy?** you wondered before accepting that the shaking bed made you happy.

The giddy feeling faded quickly, and you curled on top of the covers, exhaustion taking over.

Later, (you weren't sure how much later,) you vaguely heard the door open, and just barely heard the inaudible murmers of Sam and Dean. You felt someone lifting you, and you snuggled into his warm chest. You weren't sure who it was, but he were warm and soft, and you wrapped your arms around him. You felt hair and realized it was Sam. He chuckled, and the sound resonated through his chest. You could feel the mild vibrations, and you squeezed a little. "So warm," you whispered drowsily. He chuckled again, and you sighed contentedly. You were sure if you were a cat, you would be purring. You were drifting off again, and Sam put you on the bed, under the covers, and kissed your forehead. You smiled softly before completely losing consciousness.

When you woke up early the next morning, someone was shaking you gently. You expected the sun to be caressing your face, but it was dark and windy outside. You sat up, stretching and yawning. Sam had been shaking you and was telling you to get ready because they were about to leave on the salt and burn. You scrambled out of bed, pulled on your clothes, (Sam went outside to get the supplies) and fixed your hair.

The drive over to the church was short, and you were trembling. Whether it was from excitement or fear, you couldn't say. The rain slammed against the wind shield of the car, and trees lashed at the sky. The church was beautiful on the inside, with tall stained glass windows, and a painting of the virgin Mary near the front. Swirling stone pillars stretched to the roof, and rows of wooden pews lined the middle. The roof was tall and had complex rafters, and a statue of Jesus on the cross completed the Catholic feeling. You smiled. Churches always made you feel safe. Sam walked up next to you.

"The ghost was an old caretaker of this church. A group of boys scared him and gave him a heart attack. We found his grave. It's in the front yard."  
You nodded. "I love churches," you remarked. You walked into the pouring rain outside and waited as Sam dug up the casket, which was only a few inches below the ground. You watched the way the rain streaked down from the sky, lining the grass with water. Sam tapped you the shoulder, and you helped him bring the bones inside. The tempature inside the church dropped and the ghost appeared in front of Dean, and Sam grabbed his lighter. You couldn't help but notice the way the candles lighted his perfectly sculpted face, and how his chiseled arms tensed when he grabbed the lighter. You shook your head. **Now is not the time,** you told yourself angrily.

The ghost snarled at Dean, who threw salt in its face. It screamed and Dean yelled, "Now!" Sam flicked the lighter and burned the bones. The ghost burst into flames, throwing itself at Dean. You shrieked and hurtled yourself in between Dean and the ghost, shielding him with your body. **I wonder if the ghost is scared,** you wondered before it all went a horrific black.  
A steady beeping greeted you when you woke up. White ceiling. White floor. White walls. **A hospital?** You tried to croak out words,but your tongue felt thick and heavy, and your senses felt dull.

The nurse turned and smiled at you, her eyes crinkling at the corners. "Hello. How are you feeling?"

Your arms burned and throbbed and your throat and chest felt tight and dry. You just shook your head.  She smiled again. "I understand," she said kindly. "Would you like me to tell your brothers you're awake?" You were momentarily confused before you realized Sam and Dean had probably said you were their sister. You nodded. She left, and you realized felt very drowsy. Your eyes were drooping and heavy. **They can wait...** you thought before you drifted off.

\-------------------------------------------

You woke up for the what, third time that day? You weren't sure how long you had been asleep. Sam was dozing in the chair next, to you, his face relaxed and his floppy hair in his face. **He really is pretty, isn't** **?** you realized.

"Water," you choked out. Sam jolted awake and rushed to your side.

"Hey, how are you?" he asked softly. "You need water?" You nodded.

He jogged out to the water fountain outside your room and brought you one of those weird triangular cups. You grabbed it gratefully, but your throbbing hands couldn't bend. You grunted in pain and dropped the cup. "What happened to me?"

Sam got another cup and knelt down next to your bed, He held it to your lips as you drunk gratefully. "You jumped in front of the ghost and got set on fire. Your hands were burned really badly. They're mostly second degree burns. You've been here almost two weeks, and they've been doing therapy on them. You went into a sort of comatose state. They were worried.

 **Way to screw up an easy hunt,** you told yourself. You cleared your throat. "I want to go back to the motel. Hospitals scare me."

Sam smiled. "I'll ask when you can leave." He stood up and left the room. You lifted up your hands, staring at the oozing scars. You almost gagged and put your hands back on the bed. The bedspread poked your palm and you hissed in pain.

Sam and Dean came back. Dean nodded at you. "The nurse said you can leave now, just keep rubbing the oil on your hands and do these exercises daily." He held up a sheet of hand stretches. "They said your left hand is mostly healed already." You stood up on shaky legs, leaning on Sam. He helped you down to the car, and Dean climbed into the Impala. You stared out the window. 

Dean's jaw was tight, and his green eyes were squinted. "Dean?" You asked. He shot you a glare.

"What?" 

"What's wrong?" Dean huffed. "That was a stupid thing you did. You could've died." 

"Is that...worry I hear in your voice?" You wondered. **He cares about me?**  


He rolled his eyes. "I guess. I just don't want your blood on my hands."  


\--------------------------------------------------------------------------  


Sam carried you to your bed, despite your protests, and set you down.  You tried to stand up, but you hit your hand on the bedside table. Searing pain shot through your hand and up your arm and you fought back tears. Sam opened the lineament and rubbed it on your hands. You didn't even try to resist the tears now. "Sam, stop," you cried. He gave you a compassionate look.  


"I'm sorry, we have to do this to heal your hands." Finally the torture was over. You curled up in a ball on the bed, cradling your hands. Sam sighed and dropped down next to you. "Don't be angry at me," he told you.  


"I'm not," you said, sniffing. "It's not your fault I decided to throw myself at a ghost. Dean could've jumped out of the way."  


Sam pulled you over to face him. "It's not your fault either. That was brave." You smiled at him, blushing. He smiled back. The rest of the days were like this, you mostly doing reading and researching, Sam being adorable and also helping you with your hands, and Dean being an ass. Your hands were taking a long time to heal, but then Cas showed up. He took one look at your hands and healed them. You were so happy to be able to use them again, and not need help doing things like brushing your hair or eating, and not taking 30 minutes to just go to the bathroom. In a moment of glee, you hugged him, and Cas disappeared.  


"I think I scared him away..." you said, feeling a little stupid and hurt that Cas did that. **I thought he was my friend...**  


Sam patted you on the shoulder. "He just doesn't like hugs." You snuggled your head into him. You felt him stiffen, and then relax. Your heart lept, and you looked up at him adoringly. He smiled down at you, wrapping his arms around you in a warm embrace. "But I do."  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not sure if you can get burned by ghost fire (I came to supernatural late. I'm on the second season! I really have learned most things from tumbler....)


	5. In which the Moon comes crashing down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one is kind of short and weird. Sorry!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please send me prompts/requests! Also, when I was writing this, I wrote 3 pages of 'you' pondering how people talked, Fahrenheit 451 style. I did a ton of revising.

Life seemed amazing. Your hands felt fine, the weather had been brisk and pleasant, Dean had just managed to steal a credit card with an unholy amount of cash, and most importantly, Sam seemed to really like you. Two months had gone by since the Dean incident, and Sam considered you his girlfriend.  


You knew something was going to give. **Something is about to happen, something horrible, something horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible...** This chant slid through your bones, haunting pleasant moments. **Horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible...** It curled into the deepest depths of your heart, a dark creauture, brooding, ready to send your life crashing to the ground. You grew paranoid, being inwardly consumed by this terror, this threat of a horrible thing. You watched Sam. You knew you were going to lose him.

The fog between you two grew thicker, the dust swirling, your relationship strained. You clung to him tightly. You were so scared of losing him. You and Sam at a bar. Together, a couple. You watched him closely, trying to memorize him, even his ears. His eyes. His hair. His perfect nose. Skeletons all around you. Empty inside, drowning their pains in the clear liquid. It made them feel so good, like nothing was wrong, nothing at all because everyone knows that the more emotions you feel, the more pain, the more alive you are. They felt so nice, so numb, as they s-l-o-o-o-o-w-l-y killed themselves, drowning their emotions. Suicide. 

You smiled softly, watching Sam laugh at a joke someone had just told. Everyone laughed, as if on cue, slapping each other, talking talking talking but really saying nothing. They were always talking, but they didn't talk about anything important. Talk, talking, but never really talking because then they'll realize how empty they are when they try to pour your heart out and they can't, nothing happens. 

  
Your thoughts swirled in your head, not paying attention to people, just your head. Sam touched your hand.  
"You alright?" He asked softly. You nodded, taking deep breaths. He nodded back and watched you. You blushed, looking down at the table. **I love when he watches me,** you thought. Your heart leapt in elation, and it pounded against your ribcage. You looked up at Sam, sweet Sam, your love.

Only to realize he was staring behind you. You froze, turning your head ever so slightly and you saw it.

Her.

It was a punch to the gut. You choked, excusing yourself to the bathroom. You practically ran. You peeked out the circular window to where SHE sat. She wore a nice shirt and pants, her blonde hair was cut stylishly, and her pretty face was smiling. She was discussing something with another nicely dressed man. She was beautiful. She looked like everything Sam deserved. You slid down the bathroom wall. The door opened, and you scrambled to your feet.

"Oh God," you whispered. It was she. She was standing there. Even prettier than from far away. She looked at you strangely, and seemed to notice your distressed face.

"What's wrong?" she asked kindly. "Can I help?"  
 **Thoughtful as well as beautiful,** you thought ruefully. You did a double take and realized she was the girl Sam had been talking laptops with when Dean broke your heart. The memory sparked hurt in you, and you shook your head, sinking to the ground.  
"Sorry, you can't fix this."  
"Do you want to talk about it?"  
You laughed.  
"Why not? Long story short, my boyfriend has noticed someone. I should add I think he's only with me out of pity. She's funny, smart, beautiful," your voice cracked, "everything I'm not. He deserves her, but he's too kind and would never say something. I just can't let him go." You sighed, feeling utterly pathetic and deflated. **Look, a new low. Sitting on a bathroom floor, dumping your life story to a stranger.**  


You looked at her concerned face.

"You look familiar...have we met?" She asked, searching your face for recognition.  


You answered, carefully. "I think I saw you, were you in--"

She broke you off. "I saw you come into that bar in Kansas with a guy, the one with really green eyes. That was a long way away, what are you doing here? Also, is that who you're talking about?"

"Work." You said it in a sharp tone, that clearly said, stop asking me questions. "Um, no. He was just a friend." You lowered your head, feeling the pain in your heart from remembering. "What are you doing here?"

She laughed, a tinkling laugh. "Same. Work. Anyway, my suggestion for your 'perfect' rival  is to just talk to him about it. I'm sure he'll understand."

**Right.**

You nodded, stood, thanked her, and left. Dread was gathering in your stomach, you knew this would end poorly. Sam was still sitting at the table. The girl walked out of the bathroom behind you. You greeted Sam. You walked to him, your ears pounding, trying to soak in as much of him, before you would lose him. He smiled, but you could tell he was watching her. Jealousy rose in your throat, and you stuffed it down.  **Horrible, horrible, horrible**. 

"Sam?" Your voice was surprisingly quiet and even. He glanced at you.

"What's wrong?"

You gnawed on your lip, trying to think of how to say this. Tears were gathering in your eyes. You leaned forward. **Something horrible...** "Sam, I know you're watching the girl, the one you were talking to in Kansas." You could see the blood drain from his face, as he tried to explain, hastily apologizing. "Sam, stop. It's alright," your voice wavered, and you refused to cry. "Go say hello again. I met her in the bathroom. She's really quite nice, I think. You deserve someone like her." A tear escaped your eyes, and you brushed it away, trying to keep a smile on your face, like you were in control of your emotions. His face relaxed, tension disappearing.  


"She's very nice. I wanted to get to know her more, but I don't think I would see her again. Her name is Jessica."

**Let him go.**

"Sam, go. I can see it in your face, you prefer her. It's fine. It's fine." **Liar, liar, liar**. "You deserve her. Go. I'm fine on my own. 

**Liar! LIAR!** the little voice was screaming against your ears.

Sam looked into your eyes, his gold-hazel eyes flickering over your face. "Thank you." then he said something you couldn't hear.  


He stood and walked to her.

You stood as well, so steadily walking to Dean, whispering, "I need to go home." Irritation drew itself over his face, but when he saw Sam with Jessica, he nodded in understanding, wrapping an arm around your shoulder, walking out. Just a few months before, you would've melted, fantasies playing in your head of Dean confessing his love, but you no longer saw anything in him. This was an act of friendship, normal people did things like this. **Since when am I normal?**  


"What happened?"

You shook your head. "Nothing. I'm fine."

**I'm fine. Keep repeating that, and you might convince yourself.**

The ride home was silent. The moon glowed, half there, half gone. **Like my heart.** You weren't sure how much more you could take. You stepped out of the Impala. Dean asked again if you were alright. You assured him you were, and he went back. Light streamed through the clouds, and you sat in an open field. **What a sorry state, talking to the moon,** you thought. Pondering your actions, you wondered if you had done the right thing. The moon, smooth, like porcelain, a clean line slicing down half, half visible, the other half fallen to the ground, somewhere. You imagined that the moon had been full, once, and half fell off. You imagined the half of the moon falling down to you, a half circle, small. You would hide it in your bag, your small lantern, a shining guide. You closed your eyes, the moon in your mind. You felt nothing. You knew you had done right.  **Sam deserves her** **, not me. He'll be happy with her.** Just as you were convinced you had it under control, staring at the moon, you heard Sam's voice, brushing past your ears, hair rising on your neck.

 _Thank you..._ You swept a hand down your face. It came back wet. **He meant thank you for letting him go.** You were fine if he deserved her. You were fine letting him go. You were not fine now.  **He did it out of pity.** **He never felt anything for me. He was thanking me for being fine enough to let him go on with his life.** You curled into a fetal position, letting the smooth grass cover like a blanket. You felt like a clinging child, demanding a relationship. Pain and embarrassment mingled, surging through you. _Love._  


You stood, refusing to continue a pity party. You glared at the moon, and you felt nauseous. **Horrible, horrible**. The chant faded. It had done its job. Your 'perfect' life had been smashed, and you felt horrible. Your heart ached and moon blurred in your vision, crashing down on you.  


  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I used the prompt from Supernatural Imagines, Imagine Sam leaving you for Jess. I saw that and cackled aloud and began plotting. I know it doesn't make much sense chronologically, but...


	6. The Moon is gone but an Angel is not

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is short. I'm sorry for taking so long to post. Please tell me what you think of this! I think after I'm done with this I'll do a series of one shots showing each rejection more in depth.

After rather pathetically confessing your love to the Winchesters, you felt foolish and empty.

You crept into your bed, the edges of your pant legs soggy from the field. You had been sure that Sam had felt the same way. When you woke up to Jessica's voice, you felt ready to crawl under a bridge and live there. You made a story that you were a close, lifelong friend of Dean's. She asked if your guy problem was any better and you told her you had figured it out. **Yes, you are happy, I am not,** you thought bitterly. A few weeks of awkwardly avoiding contact with Sam was enough. Jessica and Sam were a match made in heaven, by Gabriel, probably. You left. 

You told Jessica you were having an early life crisis. You told Dean and Sam you had hunter friends. You told yourself you were capable on your own. Cars zoomed by the small town at alarming speeds, and you caught one. It brought you to the airport. You made it to New York. You were alone until Cas found you. You were incredibly relieved. Everything moved so quickly, the big city an unhappy change from the landscapes you had seen with Dean and Sam. You told yourself you were fine alone. You were over Dean and Sam. You were a self confident, young city girl with a good job.  
In reality, it hurt. But life hurts, and you moved on. Fall came and passed. Winter started, frigid nights and long days. There was no sky. The crowded buildings showed patches of sky. Patches. This was so different from the open skies in Kansas. At night, the smog was so thick you couldn't see the moon. You were floundering in your new job, a fish out of water. It was alright, it payed well, but you had almost no social contact besides the normal work talk--"You need paper? I need that done by so and so, etc. " Sometimes Cas would be waiting for you at your apartment, but usually he would not. This day had been long and tiring, and you desperately wanted to go home and take a bath. Cas was gone. The apartment was completely dark. You fumbled for the switch on the wall, the lightbulb flickering against the ceiling.  
"I need to replace that..." you mumbled. You sank into a warm bath. The silence was overwhelming. Everyone said New York City was loud, but the apartment building you lived in was far from roads and quiet. The lack of noise seemed to muffle your breathing, and you hummed to break the silence. Eventually you got out, ate dinner, went to bed. The ceiling above your bed was completely flat. You had memorized by all the nights spent staring at it. You felt so unexceptional, so ordinary. You had no friends, no family to go to. There was Dean and Sam, but...  
Your thoughts were broken by a whooshing noise and you sat up to find Castiel standing at the foot of your bed.  
"Cas, " you said, a crooked smile on your face. You had never been so glad to see him. His bright blue eyes studied you carefully, and you started to get out of bed.  
He walked over to you instead, placing a hand on your shoulder.  
"You are distressed. I feel a sense of loss from you. Why is that?" His gruff voice was concerned, and he eminated peace and calmness. You leaned into his hand, shrugging. **So warm,** you thought blissfully. You hadn't had someone touch you (besides people bumping intoned you or shoving) for several weeks. Cas looked down at you. "You crave human contact," he stated a little awkwardly.

Your eyes flew open at this blunt statement.  
"Um...I-I guess? I-" you stammered, trying to form a coherent sentence. Cas pulled up your top bed cover. "What? No!" You shouted, shoving him out of your bed.  
Castiel looked very confused. "I don't understand. You thought very clearly how warm I was, how cold you were, and how you wished someone would," he frowned, searching for the word, " 'cuddle' you." You blushed. "Is this not true? I can keep you warm."  
You sighed. "All right, but don't try anything, you hear?" Cas looked confused again.  
"Y/n, I would never do anything to you without your explicit permission. What have I done to make you think I would take advantage of you while you were asleep?"

You chuckled. "It was a joke." You pulled up the top cover and motioned Cas in. He lay down, facing you. You curled into Cas's very warm chest. He radiated heat, and you were enjoying snuggling him. His trencoat was surprisingly soft, and it wrapped around you. Cas gently rubbed circles on your back, and your back tingled. You could feel his chest rising and falling steadily, and his breath blew past your ears, raising the hair on your neck. He was the perfect snuggling companion. Your bed was warm and you fell asleep happy and not alone for the first time since leaving Sam. 

 

You woke up alone.


	7. In which the Moon is a Judge

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Myeeehhhh this is really bad

You knew Cas was going to leave. **He's not your personal teddybear,** you told yourself, sitting up from your bed. It was cold and empty. You could see the imprint of Cas's body in the sheets. You felt to see if it was warm, which it wasn't. **He probably left as soon as I fell asleep.** The air surrounding you was frigid, as it was the middle of December, your heater was broken, and it dipped below freezing every day. You shivered, wrapping your arms around yourself before putting on slippers and getting ready for work. Shower. Clothes. Makeup. Breakfast? You glanced at the clock. Not enough time. Your stomach growled in protest, but you ignored it. Life went on. The commute was long and cold. You arrived on time. You worked. You ate lunch. Alone. As always. You didn't mind. You listened to music as you ate. **I don't need people. I always end up hurting them, myselves, or both.** You were sitting in Central Park, on a little bridge over a little running river. Rocks surrounded it, and a vendor was selling hotdogs next to the bridge. Voices flowed around you freely. Snippets of conversations. Sounds. The sizzling meat. The clopping of the hooves. Dogs barking. Trees rustling. You closed your eyes, taking it all in. A few minutes later, you stood, brushing dirt from your pants and throwing away your trash. As you walked back to the building, you wondered if Cas would be waiting for you again. The thought of someone caring enough about you to wait for you filled you with excitement. you put a little spring into your step, and you worked a little harder that afternoon.

When work was over you pratically ran to your car. You sped home, barely able to contain yourself. You had thoroughly convinced yourself Cas would be there, and you couldn't wait to not be alone. You ran up the stairs two at a time. You opened your key, smiling to yourself. You stepped into your aparment. 

Empty.

You sunk into a chair, fumbling in your pocket for a piece of gum. You stuck it in your mouth, trying to take your mind off the gaping hole of loneliness. "So stupid. So stupid," you mumbled over and over. Silence filled your room except for your gum chewing. You stood. And then sat. You were so tired and unhappy. You suddenly couldn't find the motivation to do anything except curl in bed and you didn't want to do that either because you would be cold and alone. You rubbed your face, trying to get the numb feeling to leave. You shrunk into a fetal position, tracing patterns on the chair's arm.

You sighed, feeling drained, lonely, pathetic. You faced the other way. Then twisted. You couldn't find a comfortable position. You determined to do something. **Christmas is in a week. I could decorate.** This sounded mildly interesting, so you hauled yourself up from your chair and to your car. After half an hour poking around a small Christmas store, you had everything. At home you unpacked your findings. A very small tree with little ornaments. A poinsetta, a wreath, a little candle display, and garlands. You set everything up, refusing to acknowledge lonliness. You strung mistletoe from the doorways, hoping to catch Cas under one. It was very late by the time you went to bed, and you knew Cas wasn't coming. Disapointment was so familiar to you, and you lay in bed, tasting it so strongly.The next few days were like that; you hoping for Cas, and Cas never coming. You called your mom, who lived in England, but she couldn't come because of horrible snowstorms. Everyday you called Cas, just to get his voicemail, just to listen to his adorable voice wondering why he needed to say his name.

Christmas Eve you got an email for your company's annual holiday banquet. It was awkward and depressing. Almost everyone had a significant other. Mistletoe was hung here and there. You looked at the plant and felt like vomiting. You left early, unable to see everyone kissing and singing. The ride home was a blur from too much alchohol and lack of sleep. 

You woke up early Christmas day, padding out to the kitchen. Your very small tree was very small, and had two packages underneath. You knew one was from your mother, but you weren't sure where you had gotten thenother one. You got coffee and sat on the floor. The one from your mother was some clothing and and a disc you wanted. As you opened the other, you realized the man at the door of the banquet had handed this to you as you left. You had been too tired to remember that you had gotten this. It was a jacket with your company's logo emblazoned on the back. You had hoped Cas might've shown up in the middle of the night to give you a present. "Stupid thought," you muttered bitterly. You immediently took down your decorations. **No use keeping this up,** you thought as you yanked the mistletoe down. Christmas was underwhelming, and after calling Sam and Dean's phones about a million times, you flopped on your bed with a book and music.  
You got to know your chair very well, as you spent many hours sitting and reading.  
New Year's Eve. You sat in your chair, half watching the announcers on the television, half staring at the wall. You knew you were acting ridiculous, but you didn't care. **I hate work vacations,** you thought. **I have no life.**  
"10, 9, 8..." the announcers were counting down.  
 **Yipee,** you pondered bitterly, **One year closer to dying.**  
"3, 2, 1!" Fireworks went off. Your chair shook. Couples on the TV were kissing, enveloped in their little bubble of bliss. You turned away, taking a swig from your bottle. A flutter of wings startled you.  
"Cas?" You asked tentatively, standing up.  
"Hello y/n. What are you doing?" He took the almost empty bottle away from you. You collapsed into your chair.  
"You're late." You gestured to the TV, which showed Times Square, and the huge banner that said, 'happy new yeear'. Cas's eyes were glued to the television.  
"Why are they kissing?"  
A pang of pain hit your heart. "It's a human thing. They kiss the second it turns to the new year." You stepped closer, watching his lips.  
Cas looked down at you. "You want someone to kiss." You had gotten used to his blunt way of speaking.  
"Yeah."  
He noticed how close you were, and just as he stepped back, you grabbed his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his. His lips were warm and soft, just the right size. Your lips nestled perfectly on his. You lost yourself in the moment, feeling your own bubble of bliss. 

Cas yanked back, breaking the kiss. He looked horrified and violated, almost scared, and you couldn't look him in the eye. You felt guilty, dirty. **You stupid idiot! He didn't want to kiss you! You are so disgusting!** voices screamed at you in your head. You started to slink away, bile rising in your throat. Words tumbled out of your mouth. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I'm a horrible person, I'm so sorry," you felt frantic and panicked. "Please, say something, slap me, SOMETHING!" Now you were screaming. You couldn't stand the silence.  
Cas said nithing and disappeared.  
You sunk to the floor, sobbing, cradling your bottle. You felt disgusting and horrible, like some dirty creature, forcing poor Cas into something he didn't want to do. The moon was shining on you for the first time in weeks, but now it felt like a spotlight in a court, and you were being declared guilty.


	8. In which a beautiful Star is fading

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the final chapter!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set somewhere in season ten. Slightly AU I guess? So Sam doesn't meet Jess until season 8, and then she doesn't die. And I don't know what month it is when Cas is dying, but I set it in New Year's because it has a theme!

You pulled yourself up from the floor, wiping tears from your eyes. You stared at the spot Cas had been, then turned and powered off the TV. You sniffled, then screamed, not able to handle it. You looked around wildly, landing your gaze on a glass, and hurled it to the floor. It shattered. The glass frames sparkled and chipped, flying, like birds trying to take off from a nest, but then the shards puddled at your feet. Red pushed out and escaped from your feet, being freed from their cage inside their body. It took a few seconds for you to realize blood was covering your feet and glass was everywhere. You cried out and started to pick up the shards. You threw them away, but one slipped from your reach. You picked it up. The glass had barely cracked, and spikes fluttered through the piece of glass. They were veins, and the blood from your feet had landed inside the indents. You decided to keep it. You cleaned your feet. You dismissed the Castiel incident and tucked it away in the back of your mind, where you would never think about it, where your mind would have to be shattered like glass to remember it.

You become a machine, sinking into your place in the puzzle, clicking, becoming like them. You got up, slipped your feet into slippers, **Isn't that funny** , you thought, **One slips their feet into slippers.** You would stand and get ready, makeup, eating, and then driving to work under the drizzle of mist and rain. Work. Eat again. Work some more. Then you were done. Then, you would come back to your apartment, turn on the lights, bathe, eat again, read, maybe watch TV, then sleep. You made acquaintances, friends, and you even had a boyfriend once. Life was very steady. Every so often, as you lay in bed, next to your other part, who really wasn't another part of you, you would feel a wisp of wistfulness for the past, a passing little thought, like a spirit, a breath, a will-o'-the-wisp. It would pass through you, pass through your body, shudder and leave, and you would feel empty and depressed for a moment, and then you would dismiss it, **charisma,** you told yourself. **That's just charisma, they say. You must feel sad to be happy to make others happy, but luckily I'm only briefly sad.** You knew you were kidding yourself, but you didn't want to feel sad. You wanted to stay happy, full, _entertained._ One day, your boyfriend was out of town, and you were sick. You had lost so many things from your life as a hunter; you no longer feared having demons hunt you; you no longer felt unhappy because you had no friends; you no longer had a body of pure muscle; yes, you were not fat, but when you looked in the mirror, the muscles had faded, and you were just you. You still had one thing. Your virginity. And that's how you had broken up with your boyfriend, because you hadn't wanted to. He had gotten angry. You told him you weren't ready. You told yourself you didn't want a man who only wanted you for sex. Deep inside you knew for some reason you were waiting for someone else. You just decided, so promptly, that relationships weren't for you. You put in more hours at your job to fill the hole. That was how your life went. One thing left, you would fill it. Losing, emptying, losing, emptying. Oh, but there were cracks. Nothing ever quite fit the hole perfectly. You knew only a couple things could really fill the hole.

One year. Twelve months. Fifty two weeks. Three hundred sixty five days. New Years. Valentine's Day. (That was fine, you had your boyfriend) Easter. Fourth of July. Thanksgiving. (Breakup with boyfriend) Christmas. New Year's Eve. When you looked in the mirror, you saw someone else. For some reason, you were more stressed and unhappy than when you had been a hunter. This time, you went to Time's Square. It was crowded. People jostled and screamed. You could barely see the ball and you were so numb that when people touched you, you felt nothing, and when a dude tried to kiss you, you just turned your head, letting his mouth hit your cheek. You went home number, **is that even possible,** you wondered, tireder, sadder. You were so so so empty, but you couldn't seem to find anything to fill it this time.

\-------------------------------------------------------

When it was Valentine's Day the next year, it wasn't that day that hurt. You had a job. You worked overtime. It was the next day when it was Saturday when everyone was still eating things and all the shops were sold out and all the couple's were together and looking at each other like no one had ever before. Even your boyfriend was never affectionate. You stared straight ahead so no one would see you. You plugged in your earbuds, listening to her voice croon you.

_Sophie only want to tune us into radio BBC  
 _Michael sat on my knees and whispered to me  
 _All about the meanies_  
 _Jacqueline was being such a big girl_  
 _with her cup of tea looking out of the window_  
 _And Barbara_  
 _She looks just like my mom_  
 _Oh my Barbara...___

You frowned. **This has nothing to do with anything.** You skipped the song.

_The food that I'm eating_  
 _Is suddenly tasteless_  
 _I know I'm alone now_  
 _I know what it tastes like_  
 _So break me to small parts_  
 _Let go in small doses..._

You sighed. **This sounds just about right.**

\---------------------------------------------

Time swirled very fast and out of control and one day skidded to a stop, dumping you out, and speeding back. You were seated in your chair, in front of the television, where the narrators were once again getting ready for the countdown. Your legs were tucked under you and a cup of tea warmed your hands. **Three years,** you realized with a start. **Three years since Cas, almost four.** The tea's steam swirled in front of you, blurring your vision. You thought you saw wings, and imagined what would happen if Cas were to appear. Your eyes were closed, relishing every moment of your daydream.

"Three, two--"  
Heat. So much heat.

 

You blinked the mucous from your eyes, gasping and choking. For the first time in a long time, you had woken up in a hospital. Sam wasn't there. Neither was Dean. Your chest hurt. A nurse walked up to you. "Hi there. You won't be able to talk for a while. Some crazy guy set a bomb off at your apartment as the ball dropped. Bad luck for you, I guess." She smiled. "Though some good luck for you. A girl is dead. Do you remember who you are?" You nodded.  
"Alright. I'm Barbara. You've got some lung damage since the building collapsed and there was so much smoke. You've also got three broken ribs and a fractured wrist. What a great new year, huh? Don't worry, you'll be better in no time. " She left after checking your IV. Time caught up in a few days, and it swirled around you, threating to sweep you off your feet. You had trouble trying to manage getting around your house with your ribs, but in May you were back to work. Time won another battle.

One day in the middle of September, you called Sam. The phone rang once. It went straight to voicemail. Hearing his voice again stirred memories of the adventures and love you had had, and you realized how spectacularly dull your life was.  
You slammed the phone down. You were so angry at Cas, but you knew it was your fault. If you hadn't thrown yourself at him he would've stayed and you might've found out where Sam and Dean were. Time flew by, and before you knew it, you were sitting in front of the TV again, waiting for a countdown.  
You were wheezing. The explosion had injured your lungs and they had never healed. **Breathe in breathe out,** you said. You were so used to this. You heard a noise. Your mug dropped from your hand. **Five years. ******You turned. **Breathe in-five years-breathe out,  
** Castiel.  
You sobbed in between your gasps for breaths, torn between running far away or hugging him.

"Hello," his voice was gentle. It was so good to hear, like a cello playing a melancholy tune.  
You couldn't breathe, and in between suffocating and the shock of seeing Cas after five years, your knees grew unsteady. Your mind was filled with static from lack of air, and you collapsed, choking.

You came to staring into Castiel's shockingly blue eyes. They were laced with concern, and you wanted to cry. "Cas," you started. Sobs racked your body, and you tentatively reached up to touch his hair. He tensed, and you jerked your hand back. "I'm so sorry."

He nodded, helping you stand. "Five years, Cas. I thought..." you bit your tongue. "I'm just so sorry. I was, I don't know. I have no excuses." His piercing eyes were trained on you, and you couldn't or wouldn't look away.

"Y/n. I am sorry as well." You shook your head, thinking he shouldn't be apologizing. "I came because I am going to die." His words hit you, breaking some piece of you, like a hammer hitting you. Your head pounded, and you took a step back. You went numb.

"No, no no I am not letting you go again." You sucked in your breath. **I shouldn't be telling him what to do.**

He shook his head. "My angel grace in running out. I have been living on stolen angel grace, and it's almost out." You looked at him, and you saw how tired he looked. His eyes were puffy, and you realized it was taking a physical toll on him. Tears rolled on your waterlines, and you shook your head again.

"Cas, please, I'm so sorry. What--," you bit your lip, "When?"

He was talking, and you hung on to every word, knowing this would probably be the last time you would talk to him. **I'll be alone again.** You gasped, not believing how selfish you were.

"I spent a lot of angel grace just coming here." Guilt hit you again.

"Cas, you didn't have to come."

"I had to."

"Cas, please, there's something you can do, something. Find some more grace." He shook his head, and desperation consumed you. "There is something! There's got to be an answer!"

"Y/n, Dean's a demon. I don't know what to do."

You stepped closer to him, inches separating you from him. Tears ran freely down your face. 

"Kill another angel, get its grace."

Horror spread over his face, then determination.

"Y/n, I will not kill anymore. I have already killed enough."

"Will-" you looked away. "Will this be the last time I see you?"

You looked back into his stunning eyes, which were dry, accepting his fate. **It's not his** **fault** , you thought.

"Yes."

Your heart broke, alarmingly similar to what happened almost six years ago with Dean. **And now Dean's a demon, too**.

He leaned forward, reaching out and holding your head in his hands. You melted into his rough hands. **Five years. And all because I ruined it with a kiss**.

He pulled you closer to him, embracing you in a hug. Your tears stained his coat, but you didn't care. "Cas, I'm going to miss you." **This is all my fault**.

Cas stroked your hair, then pushed you away slightly so he could look into your eyes. Wet patches spread across his coat where your tears were.

"Y/n, this is not your fault." **It is.**

The next moments happened in a blur, and it was so fast you weren't sure if it happened. His lips ever so quickly touched yours. You felt it, and pulled him into another kiss, melting into his lips. **Does he really want this?** You pulled away, staring into his eyes, confused.

"Castiel, what was that? That-that was why you left. You didn't want me to kiss you. And you just initiated a kiss." He bowed his head.

"I was trying to make you happy." 

You laughed in spite of your crying. **My sweet angel, always thinking about others instead of himself.** You embraced him, squeezing, memorizing his shape, feeling his warmth. He wrapped his arms around you, and let you hug him. About a minute later, you pulled away, stroking his face.

"You should probably go now," you said softly. "Sam will be angry with you for leaving."

He nodded and turned. "Oh, and Cas? Tell Sam I'm sorry." He nodded again. "...Cas?" Your voice sounded small and scared, and he smiled comfortingly. "Where are you? Can I come with you?"

"No. I don't have enough grace. Here is where we are. It's called the Men of Letters Bunker." He handed you a piece of paper. Words were scribbled on it. **He'll be dead by the time you get there** , you thought, seeing the words, 'Lebanon, Kansas' on it.

He kissed your forehead. "Good morning and Happy New Year," he said quietly. You turned as he left, collapsing to the floor, the moon nowhere in sight. **Alone.**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK I LIED I just saw another fantastic addition this may not be it....


	9. In Which a Star betrays you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gabriel is alive in this. This is based off Beside You and Moonsea by Phildel. Check her out!

You never heard from Castiel again. Your angel who'd had pretended to love you to make you happy was, as far as you knew, dead. You felt the same inside. You trudged through the rain, through the snow, through the smog, looking down at your feet always, earbuds in your ears always, emptiness in you always...

You missed Cas. You missed having him to snuggle, to talk. You missed the way his sky eyes would crinkled with laughter when you showed him something funny, like videos of your mom's cats. You missed the way his chest would heat and his arms would wrap around you protectively at night.  
You wished you had someone, nights alone when panic overwhelmed you, or you saw a picture of your sister, so long dead. You wished you had someone to cry on when you couldn't handle thoughts, be they panic over death or something else.  
 _Even if you were upside down I would be beside you…_

But you adapted. And when he came along, scruffy hair and bright whiskey eyes, you fell head over heels. His sense of humor was amazing, and he shared your love of chocolate. He swept into your life, called himself Gabriel, and you were mesmerized. No one had ever treated you like this. You felt like a princess. He would bring you to Italy, let you visit your friends in Rivisondoli and Argentario, then buy you gianduia and watch the sunset from the rocks in Coriano. You would press your head against his shoulder, letting the sweet hazelnuts chocolate melt in your mouth. The reds and orange would swirl in a fiery display, and Gabriel would tell you his favorite Bible stories. They were, according to him, the Tower of Babel and Jesus' birth. He would cackle as he told you how funny it was watching all those people so confused about what they were speaking.  
"None if them could understand each other! You shoulda been there..." his voice would trail off and you would feel depressed again, reminded of your mortality. He loved telling you the Nativity story. He would describe in detail poor Mary when he had told her she was pregnant; how angry Joseph was; he had also loved telling the shepards.  
"You know, it was the middle of the summer, not December," he would ramble. You just liked to listen to his rough voice.

You leaned against him, burying your face in his soft shirt. He looked down at you and chuckled, stroking your hair. You were back in Castiel's arms, stroking your hair. You froze, your body tensing. **Castiel Castiel Castiel...** His blue eyes flashed in your mind. Gabriel pulled away from you, his face contorted in confusement.  
"Castiel?"  
Your eyes flew open.  
"I'm sorry. I really am, it's just--" you struggled for words. "He was a good friend and now he's dead." A tear was running down your face.  
You were distraught, and it was getting dark. Gabriel took you back home and set you in a chair, a concerned look in his caramel eyes. He sat down across from you, snapping, as food from a small shop you had visited in Rome appeared. He set out the food, the suppli, the arancini, olive ascolane, and the fried eggplant flowers. You had to giggle.  
"Italian fast food," you sniffled.  
He gave you a withering look and popped un olive ascolane in your mouth. You frowned at the fried food, and you heard a sigh as salad appeared. You piled your plate with the food and began eating, your face still moist with tears. When you had finished and Gabriel had made the mess disappear, he looked at you seriously.  
"Now that you're fed, tell me what's wrong. Why are you thinking about my brother all the time? He was more than a friend, it seems."  
You shook your head.  
"He wasn't," you replied. "I wanted him to be at the time, but he didn't feel that way. He lived with me for a little bit after I had a falling out with the Winchesters," Gabriel's face hardered and you could feel him prodding your thoughts for what had happened. "And we were really close. Then stuff happened and I didn't see him for five years, and then he came back and told me he was dying, so...." your voice faded. Pain gripped you before Gabriel zapped to your side, arms wrapped around you. It felt so similar and you stifled a sob.  
He wiped the tears off your cheeks, resting the side of his head on yours.  
"Shh," he whispered. "It's alright. Don't cry, sugar." You smiled at his petname. You felt your eyelids drooping and you fell asleep with someone else for the first time since Castiel. It felt like yesterday you had thought the same thing with Cas, comparing him to Sam. Your heart ached as you remembered the Winchesters. You wondered if they were even alive. You let sleep overtake you, Gabriel's steady breathing lulling you blissfully to sleep. You desperately hoped he would still be with you in the morning.

\----------------------_--------------

You awoke early in the morning, hesitatantly, not wanting to know if your apartment was empty. You were in your bed, and he was not. You were silent and got dressed. _In my symbolized world, I'm a beautiful girl..._ You closed your eye, lining it with eyeliner and flicking your lashes with mascara. _In my symbolized world, we're a boy and a girl..._ You stopped by your closet on the way out, pulling out a dusty photo of you, Sam, Castiel and Dean. Dean was on one side, wearing a green plaid shirt, Castiel was next to you, his arm around you, and Sam was looming over you, and you were squashed in between all three, looking up at them, grinning. Everyone was smiling, genuinely smiling, and in your head your could hear the laughter. You remember taking this photo. Sam had stepped on your toes. You brushed it off and placed it on the counter. You caressed Castiel's face briefly, smiling slightly, a twinge of melancholy in you. It was Saturday, and you did all the normal chores and shopping. While you had started cooking, Gabriel appeared in a flurry of wings, looking flushed. His top button wasn't latched. You raised an eyebrow questioningly. He shrugged.  
"Sorry, sweets, I had trouble on the way," he said, as if this explained everything. The angel put a peck on your cheek, and you blushed. He 'helped' you in the kitchen (really, he had no idea how to cook!) and then brought you to Hawaii for the rest of the day. He was living with you, now, and each day you couldn't wait to come back from work to him, sweeping you off your feet to faraway places. Of course, not everyday he was there, and you understood, heaven was a busy place.  
 _I called it, I called it, I called it the Moonsea..._  
 _It is a cruel dream, at the end of my days..._  
You gravity reaches...  
Such a long way...

He kept coming back flustered and strange, avoiding your touch. At first you were hurt, but you dismissed it. **He might just not want you to touch him yet.**

_From up so high, I can hardly decide…  
If you're waving hello, or waving goodbye…_

Gabriel was becoming distant. He only showed up about four times a month, and he was distracted. He smelled like another, perfume on him, mint on his breath. You knew. 

_There are diamonds on the floor you can't take back…_

You found an earring. You were washing his clothes. A diamond fell out of his pocket, shimmering, making rainbows on the wall. You struck in your pocket and ignored it. Oh, you knew.

_There's an eyelash on the board, does she wear black?_

You had a business trip; Gabriel stayed in your house. You returned. Underneath the sink of the room where he had stayed, a pack of fake eyelashes. A lacy, large black bra. You no longer breathed.

_All the violence that I swore you could have back…_

You confronted him in unpleasant dreams, where you always died. 

_And I'll be in the back of your mind…_  
And I'll be at the front of the line…  
Waiting for you… 

You followed. Oh, and you had known. Of course there was another. Why wouldn't there be?

He came back, late, you were sitting on the chair, a glass of Italian sparkling water in your hand. "Y/n," he said. "Just the person I wanted to see. I wanted to introduce you to someone." In she stepped, all legs and long fingers, which brushed the door. Your eyes flicked to the door.

_There's red varnish on the door, I don't wear that…_

"This is Kali. I don't know how to say this..." his voice trailed off.  
Kali spoke icily. "He's mine now. We just wanted to say good riddance."  
You stepped towards the angel, who refused to meet your eyes. You had known, but you had still had hope.  
"Gabriel?" Your voice cracked, your watery eyes making him glow and blur like a star. "I trusted you. I trusted you..." you stopped, sobs racking you. Kali sighed, like you were a stupid child. "Why? Why did you even start this?"  
He shook his head, still not looking at you.  
 _The one thing we share... Is the view of these stars..._ Kali glared at you.  
"It doesn't matter, it's over now." She yanked him out, your whiskey eyed angel leaving you for the last time, under the starlight.

_I called it, I called it, I called it the Moonsea..._


	10. In Which the Sun Welcomes You Back

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> UGH I thought I was done but I have so many ideas!!! There are going to be more chapters...

You were done with being the doll of men's affections. They would talk, buy you things, then get handy the first night. They only wasted you to stroke their plume of an ego and to appease their raging hormones. You refused. You summoned angels over and over, until you finally found one that knew of Castiel. You put on the tough girl act, packed your things and left the monochrome city for your old life. Leaving the city was taking a breath of air after nearly ten years of suffocation. You drove and drove, praying to Castiel's Father that the information the angel had given you was true. You stepped out of your car, clutching the piece of paper with _Lebanon, Kansas_ so faintly scrawled in Castiel's weak handwriting in your trembling hands. Exhilaration surged through you, fear and excitement mingling. You walked to the door of the strange bunker, your hesitating and crunching footsteps through the dry grass the only sound on the still day. The air was silent and still, the birds were not outside, the sun was steady and unwavering. You raised a clenched fist to the wood door, and squeezing your eyes shut, you made contact. You crunched the piece of paper in your hand, your body shaking. Nothing happened. You weren't breathing. _Ten, eleven, twelve, thirteen,_ you thought anxiously. There was a sound. The door opened. Relief flowed through you. You had never thought you would see those green eyes again. You smiled, tears bursting through your eyes at the sight of your old friend. 

 

"Y/N?" He asked, carefully, as if he was testing your name on his lips, like he hadn't said in years, which he probably hadn't. A sob escaped from you,. Hearing his voice broke the dam, releasing a flood of memories. 

_You sat on the satiny grass, stroking the hood of the sleek ebony car. He was showing you how to fix an engine. You nodded, leaning on his baby. He swatted you, playfully snapping at you to stop putting your fat ass on his car. You had pretended to be offended, stalking away with your nose high in the air before tackling him and smearing oil over his tanned freckled face._

_You and he had snuck up on a sleeping Sam. You were sick and hyper, and he was just drunk. You giggled, wobbling on unsteady feet. You shushed a cackling Dean and began to paint his brother's hair. He wasn't going to be happy when he saw bright blue locks in the mirror. You felt too weird to care._

_You had just been told about your father. His death struck you. Hard. You cried into your pillow, wet streaks staying on the bed. Dean found you sobbing and let you cry into his firm chest. His breathing calmed you and you slept for the first time in weeks._

"Dean," you choked, your vision blurring. He stood, shock visibly coursing through his body. He grabbed a container of holy water from his belt, splashing you, and muttered _Christo._ When nothing happened, you spoke. "Long time no see." Your voice cracked, and Dean held open his arms, enveloping you in a bear hug. His short breaths and racing pulse made you want to cry. Guilt overwhelemed you. "I'm sorry," you whispered. He buried his face in your hair, and you thought you felt moisture. You stayed wrapped in his warm arms for what seemed like hours before you heard another voice come from the depths of the strange bunker. 

"Dean, what's going on?" yelled a familiar voice, rough and hardy. Footsteps came towards you, and Dean pulled away, wiping his eyes.  
"Dust," he muttered.  
"Dean, why--" the voice stopped short. You looked up, seeing the shocked face of your favorite shaggy giant. "Y/N?"  
You smiled and nodded, more composed now. You flung yourself at him, hoping he wouldn't feel awkward. He squeezed you back, then pulled away.  
"Why are you here?" Sam questioned. His face darkened, and he grabbed your arm tightly, worry creased in his face "Y/N. Are you in trouble with something?" You shook your head violently, yanking your arm away.  
Your voice cracked again. "I missed you guys. I didn't fit in." You swallowed thickly. "Cas...?" You broke off.  
Dean looked confused. "What about him?"  
You picked your lips nervously. "He told me he was dying. Is he---alright?"  
Dean picked up a bag and walked inside the bunker, motioning for you to follow. You stepped inside cautiously, the cool wooden walls looming above you. You followed eagerly into a kitchen where there was a table. In the middle of the table, there was fruit. Sitting to the right of the fruit, examining a banana, was an angel. You sobbed, dropping your bags with a _thunk._ Castiel dropped the fruit, startled. He saw you and stood, surprise etched into his features. You walked towards, your movements dreamlike and slow. You stopped inches away from him, searching his deep blue eyes for recognition. You reached a hand and touched his face, feeling the rough stubble and smooth skin. No one breathed. He didn't flinch, and you dragged your hand down his cheek, stroking it. He reached up and covered your hand with his own, pulling it away from his face. You complied reluctantly.  
"Castiel," you breathed, the Jewish name rolling off your tongue like honey. He nodded silently. "You said you were dying," you murmured, watching how he cringed as you said dying.  
"Y/N, things were complicated," the angel sighed, his voice still husky and deep. You closed your eyes, the voices of the people you had been reunited with swirling in your head. A tear rolled down your face. You longed to feel a rough thumb swipe it away, or-better yet- kiss it away. Any of the three with their soft lips and kind words. The tear dropped to the floor. You inhaled and opened your eyes.  
"Dean, I'm sorry I left. Can--can I come back?" Your words were hesitating and halting.  
Dean dropped a hand on your shoulder. "Of course! You're family."  
You smiled, and the sun smiled back.


	11. In Which a Common Star Steals your Sun

Things were not the same. How could they be? You were ten years older, they were ten years older, everything was older. They had matured, changed. And you weren't sure if that was a good thing. Apparently Dean had been a demon while you were gone, and there was still a bit of leftover violence in him, you saw. He was drinking beer, his third that day, and you commented that he should stop drinking or else he'd kill himself. He had lept up growling, his breath ranking of cheap liquor and had told you rudely where you and your opinions could go. You scurried away, but there was a bruise on your arm the next day from where he had grabbed you. Sam was on edge, and he was much darker. His hair was long and he had a dangerous glint in his eye. Castiel seemed weaker, more human. He understood jokes now. It scared you. You had always been comforted knowing there was a more powerful being on your side. He no longer seemed powerful. 

You had been overwhelmed with joy when you arrived, but the initial giddiness wore off and they began to ignore you once again. Dean brought home girls every night, and you could hear the pleasure. Dean could _s t r e t c h_ them out like cats lounging lazily in the sun, making them gasp for breath. It still hurt, hearing one you used to love giving all his love to another that you knew he didn't love. You still hadn't given your love to another. You wanted one to love you for you, not your body. So you waited. Your heart slowly broke. You had convnced yourself you were over this infatuation but you honestly and desperately wanted his bright green eyes to look at you, not through you.

There was a hunt. The victim was found splattered to pieces, the heart gone. You went with Dean, silently driving into the middle of Northern Washington, (aka middle of nowhere) the black wheels crunching the snow. White flurries fell from the trees, and Dean's cheeks were a lovely rosy color. You smiled at him, to which he gruffly asked why you were staring at him. You just shook your head and looked at your hands, still smiling at a mental image of Dean in a Santa suit. 

The hunt was strange. The people, or lack thereof, was disturbing. There were two houses. One was abandoned, the other was the house of the victim. The next house wasn't for twenty three miles. You and Dean arrived late and broke into the abadoned house. It made you cringe with nervousness. You heard noises upstairs after semi unpacking your things and laying out a sleeping bag on the hard wooden floor. You and Dean had done rock paper scissors shoe for the threadbare, mildewed couch and he won. _He always does scissors, I forgot,_ you fumed as you watched a termite scurry past your face. Dean smirked. The sounds upstairs continued, and the blood drained from your face, panic filling you.  
"Dean" you whispered. You knew he could see the fear in your face. He pulled out his gun and slowly crept up the musty stairs. You gripped your sleeping bag, anticipation in your throat. Dean approached the top of the stairs and jumped around the corner, holding his gun out, ready to shoot. He lowered it, and you wrinkled your brow in confusion.  
"Dean?" You murmured. A grin grew on his face, the smirk pretty girls and monsters get before they get taken. "What's happening?" He stepped forward into the top room and you heard muffled voices. A female voice. He stepped back onto the stairs, all suaveness and manners now. Down she came. You swallowed past your contracting throat. She swung her hips, showing off her hourglsss figure. Her sharp, angled blond bob swung in time with her hips, and her petunia blue eyes narrowed at the sight of you. Dean cleared his throat, jungle eyes soaking in the beautiful woman. Her plump pink lips tightened as you stood. You dragged your fingers through your hair as she shook hers. Your eyes were glued on her.  
"Dean, who is this?" You asked shyly. You never met Dean's women. He chuckled and nodded at her.  
"Yes, who are you?" He questioned. She smiled flirtatiously, obviously liking what she saw in Dean. She faced him, completely ignoring you.  
"I'm Helena. I'm a hunter, and I'm on this case." She stroked his chiseled jaw with light blue fingernails, leaning in close to his face. "But I love help," she purred, her other hand running through his hair. He smirked.  
"Do you have a sleeping bag?" You blurted. She shot you a look, sneering at you with a condescending look that said, _but not your help._ You took a step back, busying yourself with your pillow.  
Dean spoke up, ghosting his fingers down her spine. "Do you want to use the couch? It opens to a bed." Your chest ached at how easily he offered the couch to pretty, younger girls.  
"What about rock paper scissor shoe, Dean," you asked softly. Helena gave you a truly vile look and you bit your lip, failing in communicating your displeasure in how he gave up the couch to her.

"We can share it," she suggested.   
"Y/N, can you make dinner?" Dean asked without even looking at you. You nodded, fiddling with a can of beans. You made dinner while Dean and Helen talked dirty to each other. You cursed your good hearing, and your ears burned. The sun took pity on you and darkened quickly, leaving the ivory moon in charge. Dinner was terrible, but it was canned beans that you found in an abandoned house. _Did I really expect it to be any good?_ you wondered.  
That night, you wrapped yourself in your thin sleeping bag, shivering as the snow seeped through the floorboards into your hair. Dean and Helena lay on the couch bed, cuddling. You lay very still, trying to sleep, when the bed started to move. You heard a zipper unzipping and a faint giggle. A pair of jeans was thrown to the floor, then other pieces of clothing, including bra and a pair of matching underwear. _They were going to have sex four feet away from you while you 'slept'!_ You thought you were going to be sick. You shoved under your pillow, refusing to listen to the moans and gasps as he kept her warm that night. You could hear it all. You heard him trailing kisses up her neck. You heard her moan when he nibbled on her earlobe. You heard gasps as stroked her chest and tweaked in all the right places; when he and her made the bed shake and you very much heard her scream when he lit her on fire with pleasure. They lay panting, cuddling, kissing, and them they dozed off, warm, loved, happy and tired, leaving you deathly cold, staring at the ceiling like a corpse in the morgue, unbelievably depressed, and beyond all, completely and utterly alone.


	12. In Which a Shadow Consumes You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had this written and then deleted it by accident. Merry Christmas and God bless by the way:) (sorry if that offends you it's just my nature)

You did not sleep that night. Hearing their sleek bodies make love had unnerved you, and you couldn't stop imagining their bare bodies squirming and touching. You rubbed your eyes, trying to make the mental images disappear. You stared at the rotted ceiling, your throat scratchy and sore. You didn't want to be on this hunt. You wanted to go back ten years. You wanted to fix things. You wished things didn't change. You didn't want Dean and Sam to leave you again. _What if I die on this hunt?_ you thought, fear gripping you. The thought of death scared you, and the idea of immortality scared you more. Your thoughts swirled in your head, leaving you a panicked, cowering ball under the thin sleeping bag. You stared at your numb, shaking hands before you as a cough heaved through your chest. You glanced up at the couch, where _they_ were tangled. Dean faced her, his head resting on the top of hers, a muscular arm draped over her slim waist. She was facing him, curled under his chin, wrapped in his arms and chest, breathing in tandem with him. Her ivory hand shone in the dim light, twisting and running through his hair. His hand drew small circles on her arched back absently. Their eyes were both closed, and she was humming with contentment. Heat radiated from them, and jealousy snarled and spit as a bonechilling wind swept through the house from the broken windows. You shrank away from the cold, tears welling in your eyes from the breeze. _Why is she warm tonight?_ you thought bitterly as the strange woman snuggled deeper into him. 

You got up when the sun started to peek through the curtains of the sky, stretching your numb muscles. Dean and Helena were twisted together on the couch-bed, and you sneered at them mockingly. _She's not the one sleeping on the floor, is she?_ You shoved the thought away and aggressively packed your sleeping bag. _I know what this is. I can do it myself,_ you decided, gnawing on a frozen granola bar. You muffled a full body cough in your arm and stepped outside. Actually, you weren't one hundred percent sure what it was, but you figured you would just try the usual: Rock salt, holy water, and so on. You crept through the frosted grass, a chill running through you at the sight of blood in the ice. You took a deep breath and unhinged the door, noting the fact the door was still locked. Something squished unerring your foot, and you saw red when you looked down. _Breathe, Y/N,_ you told yourself, swallowing bile. You continued through the dim house, placing your feet carefully. The room where the victim had been found still had a large maroon stain on the carpet. Chunks of.....human...adorned the walls. You heaved, disgust wrinkling your face as the smell hit you. A wave of nausea rolled through you, and you coughed roughly, your chest tightening. You gasped for air and managed to clear your chest a little. You realized you had fallen on the floor, and you stood quickly. _What could've done this?_ you wondered uneasily. _A werewolf?_ You glanced out a window. The moon was half full. _No. I know it's not a vampire. A spirit, probably._ You shuddered. You pulled out the gun that was loaded with salt, but your hand shook. You clenched your teeth. A shadow brushed over the wall. You spun around, but no one was there. You poked at the cabinent with the end of the rifle. A shadow darkened the cabinet, and you froze. You ducked away, but a piercing pain in your side stopped you. You looked down very slowly, your heart pounding in your ears. A black claw was stabbing through your waist and coming out the other side. You shrieked, clawing at it, panic sweeping through you. You heard a growl, and the claw twisted inside of you. You screamed again,the pain unbearable. You tried to rip out the claw and run, but it was securely set in your waist. You sprinte desperately, but the shadow caught you with its claws, ripping viciously. You screamed, feeling yourself being flung around the room. Your head pounded and you could see your leg in pieces. The shadow ripped open your chest, and your shrieks for Dean seemed hollow in your ears. You felt a piercing pain and you coughed, hacking blood and pieces of what you were sure was your guts. The shadow held something up and you screamed again, your vision spiraling as you realized it was your heart, throbbing and writhing. Your vision darkened and with the last of your energy, you shot the shadow with the salt. _Nothing happened,_ you thought desperately as you went unconscious. _I'm dying..._

Bright light overtook your vision. Everything was overexposed, and you felt naked. Your eyes hurt and your head throbbed. Your chest was numb and your heartbeat felt irregular. "Hu...." you croaked, your throat raw and unused. You couldn't see except for white. You heard excited voices, and it was so loud. You whimpered, your ears ringing. A warm, right hand stroked your face, and you pulled away weakly. "Hurts," you managed to mumble. Your skin burned. The hand moved away from your cheek, and he? she? You didn't know. You couldn't see, whispered to you gently.  
"Do you know where you are? Can you move? If you mean yes, move a finger."  
You struggled, and very slowly you lifted a finger. It felt heavy and thick, like metal log. "Where?" You mumbled.  
"You're at the hospital. Do you know who you are?" The voice was male and really pretty sounding.  
You shook your head very slightly. You knew you were a person, you weren't sure who.  
"Your name is Y/N Y/L/N. My name is Dean Winchester." The voice was very anxious and you felt bad for not remembering.  
"Y/N..." you tested the name on your lips. "Can't see," you whispered. There was another voice.  
"Hello Y/N. I'm Doctor Reagen. You say you can't see? This might hurt a little." Something wet dropped into your eyes. You blinked and the ceiling started to appear. Another pair of hands started to gently rub your eyes. You blinked again, and things came into focus. The hands cupped your head and helped you drink some water. You coughed violently, spitting blood into a tissue the hands were holding. Your head ached. You moaned. Someone chuckled. You turned your head towards the sound, your head feeling like it was split down the middle. A tan man with green eyes and brown hair was watching you. He was familiar. 

"Dean?" You said, your throat burning. He nodded. Recognition flowed through you, and you ached to remember. Memories trickled into you. "Impala..." you mumbled, and his eyes lit up like a flame was lit behind the emeralds. "Sam? Helena...John....Cat?" You didn't know why these names were coming back, or who they were. A wave of pain rushed through you, and you crumpled down under the covers, tears running onto your sore skin. The door opened and a man with shaggy hair and a beautiful blond woman walked in. He looked concerned, she looked disgusted. The man started whispering to green eyes as the doctor came back in. You closed your eyes as your chest convulsed with pain again.   
"How long have I been here?" You asked the doctor without opening your eyes. Your words slurred unnervingly.

"A month and a half." Your eyes shot open despite the pain. "You came in with your heart almost ripped out and the rest of you in pieces. You were in surgery for days. It's a miracle you survived." You shook your head. The doctor left. One thing didn't seem right.  
"I remember my heart was out." You slurred. You crisply remember feeling utterly empty, a shell.  
The men looked at each other. "Let's just call it the work of an angel," shaggy man said, patting your shoulder. You flinched. They left, and for some reason, the shadows on the wall seemed menacing.


	13. In Which the Moon is your Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so short. I should have another up tomorrow.

You woke up again slowly and painfully. It started with a dull pain at the bottom of your spine and worked up to your chest, increasing in intensity. By the time you were fully awake, everything burned with the most extreme pain, and you were screaming. You didn't even realize you were screaming until the nurse came running to give you morphine. Your head pounded, swollen and bruised. You panted for breath, the painkiller kicking in. The pretty man called Dean came back and talked to you about someone called Impala. After about fifteen minutes of him talking to you, you forgot his name. You cleared your throat and he stopped chattering instantly.  
"Sorry, what's your name again? I can't remember. But Ella sounds like a nice girl," you rasped as sweetly as you could. His face drained, like the wax of a melted candle.  
"My name is Dean Winchester," he said slowly and carefully. You tried to memorize his name, but everything slipped through your brain like sand through a sieve. You couldn't remember a thing. "And it's a car, not a girl. And the car's name is _Impala,_ not Ellla," he said, his voice tight and irrriated. You nodded, trying to look alive.  
"Right."  
After another thirty minutes of him just talking about his memories, trying to spark memories in you, he stood, his handsome face painted with concern. He mumbled something that you didn't hear and left. He didn't come back. You forgot his name again. _Dylan? Shawn? Jeff?_ The white walls blurred together like the days. You never knew what time it was, what day, what month.

You forgot your name as well. You didn't want to scare the nurses, who glanced at you briefly with horrified faces. You wanted a mirror. You wanted to know why they were so scared of you. One day one of the nicer nurses came in and asked if you needed anything. She usually worked in the burn section, and she said she was used to mutilated faces. "Could I have a mirror?" You asked hesitantly. She nodded and turned away to get a mirror. "Also, what is my name?" She turned back to you, her brown eyes sagging at the corners and a mix between pity and concern on her features. She gently handed you the mirror, making sure your damaged hands could hold the handle before letting go.

"Your name is Y/N Y/L/N, honey," she answered softly. She reached over your face to unwrap the bandage that protected your face. As she pulled it away, you saw blood dripping from it.   
"Needed to be changed anyway," she mumbled. She shook out your sheets and lifted your head to fluff your pillow before starting to leave for another patient. "Call me when you're done so I can put the gauze back on, alright?" You nodded. You held up the mirror, your eyes squeezed shut. Your hand shook, partly from the effort and partly from anxiety of seeing your face. You opened your eyes and focused on your reflection.   
You dropped the mirror with a gasp. Picking the mirror back up, you held on tightly, bracing yourself for the image. Your face was split from your forehead to chin, and the cut was still dark red and oozing. Deep, animalistic slashes 'decorated' the rest of your face, with criss-crosses of wounds of various lengths and depths reaching over your cheeks like freckles. The right side was mutilated beyond recognition, and you could see snapped muscles. Your left eye had a slice in it, and the corner of your eye dripped with mucus, puss and blood. Your whole face was a bloody maroon, with too many cuts and bruises to distinguish and count. Your split lip quivered as you lightly touched a scarring wound. You hissed with pain and salty tears sprung to your injured eye, which burned like someone had set fire to your eye. A tear slipped out of your eye, and through the mirror you saw it was mingled with blood. You choked in horror as you realized how terrifting your wounds were. _I look like a monster,_ you thought miserably. You dropped the mirror with shame, covering your ravaged face with your equally horrific hands. You sobbed into them, the tears stinging as they dripped. _I don't care,_ you thought. The nurse came back, and giving you a look of sympathy, cleaned and rewrapped your face. She attempted, rather sweetly, you thought, to make you feel better by chattering about the season.   
"You know those handsome boys that brought you in and used to visit you? You can go with them for Christmas! They'll be here to pick you up tomorrow." She continued talking, but you didn't hear anything else. Your head buzzed. _I don't want them to see me!_ you thought, panicking. She left again, turning out the lights and telling you to try and get some sleep. You faced the pillow, anticipation gathering in the bottom of your stomach. _I don't even know their names..._ You shuddered at the menacing shadow of the IV. For some reason, the light of the moon and shadows scared you beyond belief, but you had no idea why. Gazing up at the stars, you prayed to remember.   
The next day, you waited eagerly in the washed out sun for them to arrive. You waited until noon, at which point you started to read. It wasn't until the nurse came to give you your nightly medicine that you realized that they hadn't come. Disappointment flooded through you, and you felt sick with lonliness. You asked again what your name was; your memories had once again been shattered. You started to hide your face from the nurses and doctors, and you only spoke when necessary, as your damaged vocal chords produced a thin, raspy voice you hated. You stared out of the window for hours, mentally talking to the sun, and then the moon and stars at night. Something about the moon made you feel safe, and you suspected it was something you had forgotten. The nurse told you there was still time, that they still mjght come, and each morning you awoke with hope, and as each depressingly empty day went by, you grew quiter and quiter. _You can't even remember your name, what do you have to talk about?_ The men weren't there the next day or the next, and you stopped grabbing at the strands of hope that someone cared.


	14. In Which the Stars Help with Memories

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So short...

The burn unit nurse in near ten at night, looking nervous, rolling a wheelchair with a clipboard in hand. Your vision was bleary, and you weren't one hundred percent sure she was actually there. However when she started talking you knew it was Rosy.

"Your 61 days covered by insurance are up. So I have to bring you to your cousins, the guys who brought you in. I'm calling them now." Rosy punched in the numbers, glancing at the scrawled writing on the clipboard. "Your cousin has really sloppy handwriting," she mumbled. The phone rang once, then twice, and you held your breath. _This is Dean Winchester. If this is an emergency--_ Rosy put down the phone, sighing. "Oh well. Come on, let's get you out of bed." She plucked you up as if you weighed nothing, gently placing in the wheelchair.

"Do you think they want me there?" you asked as you were rolled into the elevator, wincing as your slashed back rubbed against the wheelchair's cushion.

"Of course. From what I've seen of you, you're very easy to get along with." The elevator dinged onto the first floor. "I'm at the end of my shift, so I can drive you." Rosy lifted you again from your wheelchair to the car, folding the wheelchair and placing in the backseat. She climbed in the other side as you struggled with the seatbelt. She laughed, buckling you in.

"My hands feel like logs," you complained, your voice cracking.

"They'll feel like that for a while until they heal." She fumbled for her keys, placing them into the ignition. "So here's the address. You came with this in your pocket, and it matches with the address they gave us, so we'll go there." She handed you a crumpled piece of paper, which had water stains and flecks of blood on it. Pencil writing was scrawled on it, which had been mostly smudged out of legibility except for _Lebanon, Kansas._ The writing seemed familiar. You had the uncontrollable urge to smell it, and it smelled like fabric softener and soap, and faintly like smoke. You traced the faded letters, trying to remember. _He handed you a piece of paper. Words were scribbled on it. He'll be dead by the time you get there, you thought, seeing the words, 'Lebanon, Kansas' on it._ You looked up to see Rosy staring at you intently. She reached over and brushed your face, and you jerked back.

"Sorry," she said softly. "You're crying." Your hand flew up to your face, and pulling it away, it was wet. _He stroked your face, brushing away the tears._

"I...I remembered something," you whispered. Rosy's face lit up with joy.

"That's good, right?" She questioned. Your face crumpled as you felt the sadness again. _Who am I crying for?_   you wondered, tears falling uncontrollably. Rosy turned away awkwardly, turning on the radio  and messing with the switches. "Radiohead!" she chirped quietly, glancing over at you again. "Oh wait, this is Regina Spektor's cover..." she continued chattering, and you tuned her out.

_A heart that's full up like a landfill...._  
 _A job that slowly kills you..._  
 _Bruises that won't heal..._

The delicate piano filled the small car as you bumped over the country road. You stared out the window, fresh air swirling through your hair. The tears stuck to your face, and the wind started to dry them. The dark trees rustled, whispering secrets to each other. You stared up at the stars, twinkling and shining down on you. The light bathed your face, and you allowed yourself to relax, closing your eyes. You drifted off underneath the bright stars, which you imagined were healing your face.

_No alarms and no surprises...._  
 _No alarms and no surprises...._  
 _No alarms and no surprises please..._

 

 

You were awoken by a whisper in your ear telling you that you had arrived. You were lifted up and into the wheelchair again and drowsily rubbed your eyes as you heard Rosy distantly talking as the gravel crunched under the wheelchair. The night sky was dark and an owl hooted in a tree near the horizon, which was slowly growing lighter. Your wheelchair was stopped in front of the door and Rosy took a deep breath before knocking. "Kinda shady place," she muttered under her breath. The door opened and you let out the breath you were holding. _"Y/N?" He asked, carefully, as if he was testing your name on his lips, like he hadn't said in years, which he probably hadn't._ You jerked back into reality as the green eyed man groggily opened his eyes. 

"What are you doing here at 2:00 in the morning?" He asked irritably.

Rosy spoke up, her brown eyes flashing. "You were supposed to pick her up days ago. She can't stay at the hospital anymore." She shoved past him, rolling you inside. You whimpered. The insides of the building were tall and loomed over you threatiningly. Rosy stopped, her mouth gaping open. The man grabbed your wheelchair. "Thanks for bringing her, you can leave," he snapped, pratically pushing her outside. Rosy struggled, facing you. 

"Bye, Y/N," she called before leaving to her car. Your gaze lingered to where she had been standing. _So my name is Y/N?_ The greeneyed man ran a hand down his face.   
"Alright then." _Hey, it's okay. I'm Dean Winchester..._ A memory abruptly came back to you as he tried not to stare at your mangled face. "My name is--"   
"Dean Winchester," you echoed your memory hollowly. His face turned from irritation to shock, and he smiled.   
"Good, so you remember me."   
"All I know is your name," you admitted. Dean's face tightened again, and he silently pushed you to a room. Your room had a Y/F/C bedspread and the walls were a pale cream. Starlight flooded through the window, and you assumed this had been your room.  
"We can work on memories tomorrow," he said gruffly, placing you under the covers. He rubbed his eyes, yawning. "If you need anything, call me," he said grudgingly.  
As he turned to leave, you asked, "Are you my cousin?" He turned back to you, confusion on his face. "Rosy said you had said you were my cousin."  
He snorted. "Far from it. No, we're just good friends. Go to sleep." He switched off the lights, leaving you alone in the starlight.


	15. In Which You Start to Rebuild

You awoke with sun bleaching your room with a creamy light. You stretched, wincing at the sheets that rubbed against your body. You heard faint voices from another room, and questioned whether to ask for help. _I can do this,_ you thought, hoisting yourself up from the bed and attempting to seat yourself in the wheelchair. You grunted, lowering yourelf into the chair when your foot hit the side and it rolled across the room. You fell on the floor shrieking, knocking over the bedside table with a crash. Your legs throbbed. Footsteps pounded towards your room and the door swung open as the man rushed in. "Hi," you rasped.  
The green eyed one laughed heartily. "Need some help there?"  
"Yeah," you answered, struggling to sit up. He leaned down, lifting you up and into the wheelchair. "I can't walk," you explained.  
"Here, try," he said, offering you a calloused hand. You stood carefully on sliced, paniful feet and managed to limp.  
"Thanks," you said gratefully. He nodded as you staggered out into the bathroom. "Wait, what's your name again? You called as you shut the door.  
He huffed. "Dean." Dean stalked back to the main room as you brushed your hair and teeth. You fumbled through all the cabinents until you found makeup. You couldn't remember your own name but you could still put on mascara. When you were decent, you limped out, taking in your surroundings. Dean leaned on the counter, eyeing you over. The shaggy man was eating toast, and he waved at you.  
"Y/N," he called, his mouth still full. You weren't sure what he was talking about, and continued pouring yourself a cup of juice."Hey, Y/N?" He asked again. You still didn't look up. _I think that blond girl is called Y/N,_ you figured. Out of the corner of your eye you saw Dean and Shaggy exchange concerned glances. The knife you were holding hovered over the bread. You couldn't remember if you liked butter. Panic filled you; an overwhelming sense that your life was spinning out of control. _I don't know who I am,_ you realized, your vision clouding with fear. You dropped the knife and plate to the floor and the plate shattered as shaggy hair jumped up and ran to you. "Careful," he shouted. You staggered away from the counter, your hands numb and shaking. You felt a dull pain in your foot, and seeing blood, tried to jump back. You still weren't steady on your feet and slipped into the broken glass, piercing pain in your back and legs as the glass broke your skin. You whimpered, trying to stand, your head spinning. Dean and the other guy reached you, and shaggy hair swooped you up, placing you on the couch.  
"Who are you?" You whispered, wincing from the pain.  
The man looked at you with hurt in his deep hazel eyes. "I'm Sam." He picked glass out of your feet, and left to get a wet cloth to take care of your back.  
"Oh. Sam. Alright."  
Dean swept up the glass, then walked towards you, shaking his head. "You always were a klutz," he commented offhand. His words stung like the glass in your back, but you didn't know why. Sam came back and you carefully rolled over so he could remove the glass from you. After you nodded, he pulled up the back of your shirt, and goosebumps rose where his fingers brushed your back.  
"Glass did a number on you," Dean said, whistling softly at the bloody mess of your back.  
"That's not all glass," you said. "It was from the accident." You saw Dean and Sam make eyecontact. Sam bent over and pulled out the first shard of glass. Tears sprung in your eyes from the pain, but you clenched the sofa and stayed silent. Sam and Dean murmured to each other quietly, and when they were done with the glass, Sam brushed your back down with a damp cloth. The water was soothing on your back, and you were drowsy again by the time they were done. Sam helped you stand, and Dean went to finish his coffee.  
"Thanks," you slurred. "I'm so tired all the time."  
"It's probably the pain medicine," Sam said, patting your shoulder. You cringed with pain.  
"What happened to me?"  
"You slipped and fell in glass."  
"I mean, before that. I woke up in the hospital with my arm nearly chewed off and my face worse than a zombie. Still is," you added softly.  
Sam gave you a sympathetic look. "A bear attacked you in the woods. You're lucky we got back when we did." You shuddered to think of the implications of that statement.

"Hey, it's alright," Sam said, noticing your unhappy face. "It'll heal. By the way, Dean wants you to go to him to show you things to help your memories, ok?" Dean motioned at you, and you followed him. He pulled a chair out for you and you sunk into it gratefully.  
"Walking is hard work," you grumbled.  
Dean sat in front of you, showing you photographs of strange people, of strange places. A man with blue eyes and dark hair. A sleek black car. An apartment in a city. A black cat. You shook your head. _Who are these people?_  
"Dean, what happened to me?"  
"A wolf mauled you in the street." Suspicion spiked in you.  
"Sam said that a bear attacked me in the woods." Dean froze, and then relaxed.  
"Well, we don't exactly know what it was."  
"Right," you said, not feeling sure about them.  
"So, any memories coming back?"  
"Dean, the only thing that sparks memories is this piece of paper," you said, giving him the thin, blood speckled paper that said _Lebanon, Kansas,_ on it. Dean's brow furrowed, and then his eyebrow shot up, staring at you.  
"Come with me." He jogged out of the room, and you limped behind him. You followed him into a light room where a thin man with big baby blue eyes sat, reading. He looked up at you, and for a wonderful split second, he seemed familiar. Then you forgot again. His floppy brown hair fell on either sides of his face, and there was a slight stubble on his face. He came closer to you, studying your damaged face. His fingers ghosted over the largest wound gently. You pulled back, confused.  
"Do I know you?" Your voice cracked. Saying those words hurt you and you didn't know why. "I don't know who you are. Please don't touch me." The man stepped back.  
"My name is Castiel. We are good friends.";  
You shook your head. He reached his hand forwards again.  
"You're crying," he stated. You wiped a tear off your face and stared at your wet hand, feeling like this had happened several times before.  
"I-I don't know why I'm crying, I don't know you, I shouldn't be crying," you whispered. Dean waved Castiel to a corner and they began talking in low voices. You always had good ears, though, and you listened carefully.  
"Dean, she has no trace of memories in her head. They've been erased."  
"Can you work angel magic and put them back in?"  
"I can try, but I'll need her full consent and cooperation; she'll be doing half the work. She does not trust me at the moment."  
"Make her trust you!"  
There was silence.  
"I can try to recreate the memories while she sleeps. But it will use much grace."  
"Cas, do this for her. Please. She's my friend."  
Castiel said fine and you pretended to study his book while they walked back to you. Dean spoke up.  
"How about we get you some breakfast? You never ate."  
You nodded calmly, but you felt like a tornado swept through you. _I need to escape tonight. What are they going to do to me? They're insane!_


	16. In Which Dean Hopes for the Best and Does the Worst

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas!!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just gave Cas the ability to restore memories...

You picked at the food Dean gave you, trying to figure out how to escape. The blond woman kissed Dean and left, shooting you a dirty look as she yelled goodbye. You shoved the food away, anticipation gnawing at your stomach. You couldn't focus. You stood, pacing, rubbing your face with your hands. Sam worriedly watched you from the table, holding a mug of coffee, and you flopped on the chair next to him.  
"What day is it?" You grumbled.  
"Christmas Eve," he answered, blowing on the coffee.  
You sat straight up like an iron rod had been stabbed through your back. _. You strung mistletoe from the doorways, hoping to catch him under one. It was very late by the time you went to bed, and you knew he wasn't coming..._  
"Cas," you said hoarsely. Sam stared at you.  
"What?"  
"I tried to catch Cas under the mistletoe," you said, your voice hollow. You stared straight ahead, remembering the aching loneliness. Sam glanced at Dean, who also sat down, listening intently. "He had come the day before and I wanted to spend Christmas with him, but," Sam's eyes were lit up, "I..."  
"Go on," prodded Dean. You shook your head.  
"Come on, Y/N, this is important," urged Sam tensely.  
"I can't go on," you whispered. Sam held up a 'wait' finger and left to refill his coffee.  
"What's that?"  
"I can't," you raised your voice.  
Dean grabbed your wrist, ignoring as you cried out in pain, and dragged you out of the chair to a standing position.  
"Y/N, you need to remember," he hissed.  
"Dean, you're hurting me," you cried.  
"Don't you understand? Just tell us!"  
"I can't," you wailed. "Please, let go of me! I can't remember!"  
"You can, I know! Stop lying to me!" Dean's voice rose on every word, and his grip on your injured wrist tightened.  
"I can't!" You screamed, trying to yank your wrist away from Dean in vain. "I" _Yank,_ "can't" _Yank,_ "remember!" You threw your whole body backwards, but Dean's strong grip didn't even loosen.  
"Dean, what is going on here?" yelled Sam, sprinting to you. Dean finally dropped your wrist and you sank into the chair, sobbing and clutching your bruised wrist close to you. "Y/N, are you alright?" Sam knelt next to you, pushing your hair out of your eyes. "Can I see your wrist?" You held out your hand carefully, glancing at Dean.  
"That's the one with the slight fracture," you whispered. Sam nodded, his rough fingers massaging your wrist gently. You whimpered as he touched a sensitive part, and Dean seemed to realized what he had done, guilt spreading over his features like spilled milk.  
"Y/N," he started to say. You shook your head, still fearful of the man. _Why did that scare me so much?_ you wondered.  
"Leave, please," you muttered. He heard and stalked out.  
Sam leaned in close, his lips brushing the hair near your ears.  
"You know, he does care. It's just that his way of showing it is a little aggressive," Sam murmured. His soft voice so close to you made goosebumps rise on you. "He wants you to remember. You've been with us a long time. He doesn't want to lose you." He stopped speaking, but an unspoken _too_ hung in the air.  
"Alright?"  
"Yeah," you whispered, wiping a tear from your face.  
"Hey, how about we decorate a little bit, does that sound fun?" He asked lightly, obviously trying to distract you. Your thoughts lingered on Dean and Cas and the lonely Christmas memory still.  
"No, not right now," you answered absently, wandering to the room where you were staying. You could feel Sam's eyes on your back briefly before he turned to find Dean. You sat on your bed very quietly, laying your hands in your lap with your feet flat on the ground. The white walls stared back at you, and suddenly another memory hit you, and you closed your eyes to completely remember.  
 _He noticed how close you were, and just as he stepped back, you grabbed his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his. His lips were warm and soft, just the right size. Your lips nestled perfectly on his. You lost yourself in the moment, feeling your own bubble of bliss._ You opened your eyes, troubled by the memory. It seemed happy enough but you felt pain in your heart still. _Bits and pieces,_ … you thought grumpily. _Why can't I have it all?_

You heard muffled shouts from the other room later and you decided to investigate. You walked outside to find Sam sitting at the table again with a furious Dean.  
"What's wrong?" You asked cautiously.  
"That feathery ass dumped us," he growled, pounding the table with his fist. You jumped.  
"What?"  
"He left, Y/N," Sam explained softly.  
"And it's your fault, too," Dean barked. "He left this note saying he didn't want to get involved with you, that you might, 'pursue romantic relations,' and 'waylay him from his task'."  
"No," you protested. "There's a mistake, this isn't my fault."  
"It is. He said specifically you're the reason he left."  
"Because he thought I'd fall in love with him?" Your ears burned.  
"Well, it wasn't all romantic relations bullshit," he admitted, "But it was your fault. He clearly said so." Dean stormed away, grumbling, "You're such a pain," as he passed you. His words left you feeling dejected and unloved.  
"Oh. Okay then," you said quietly, trying to remain calm and not expose your hurt. You decided to head outside, and you shuffled through the crunching leaves, a tear rolling down your face. The crisp wind tossed your hair around carelessly, whipping around your head recklessly. The wind was cold on your face, the fresh tear tracks drying quickly. You closed your eyes, letting the sounds caress you. The wind stroked your face like a mother soothing her child; the leaves rustled together in the trees like whispers in the air; nearby a creek burbled over smooth rocks and sticks, the splashes a secret, calming language only the dainty, longlegged deer knew. The wind picked up again, whipping your hair softly. You hummed with contentment, burying your feet deeper in the cozy leaves. The smell of the leaves wafted through your nose, nutmeg and must, spicy and bitter with tinges of sweetness. Fleecy clouds gathered on the horizon and the rustling wind brought them towards you. You shivered as the tempature began to drop. You sat down in the cool leaves, losing track of time with the reckless wind. You weren't sure how long you stayed there, but when icy flakes swirled around your face and tangled in your hair, you stood, your limbs stiff and cold. You ran inside as the flakes fell violently, thickly covering the orange leaves with their their white embrace. You knew you should acknowledge your sadness about Castiel leaving, but you shoved them inside and instead felt relieved that they weren't going to do the voodoo 'memory implant' thing anymore. You smiled, plucking delicate flakes off your face. You had honestly gotten used to seeing people sitting inside and you began to feel guilty for making Dean mad, Castiel leave, and you saw how sad Sam was. _I'm a burden,_ you thought, seeing the empty bunker.  
"Hello?" Your voice came back to you unanswered. You passed the table, picking up a banana. "I'm just a burden," you murmured, your voice echoing around the tall halls undisturbed. You packed your meager belongings, stepping into the frigid air. _I'm going to find Castiel._ You didn't realized you had said that outloud until a calloused hand grabbed your wrist, dragging you back inside and locking the door.  
"Where do you think you're going?" Dean growled. You shivered, his figure looming over you in the dark evening shadows.  
"O-out," you stuttered.  
"Right," scoffed Dean. "Not on my watch."  
He pulled you with him, down into the lower levels of the bunker where you had never been.  
"Where are you taking me?" You asked, your voice small.  
"We're getting your memories back. I found Cas," he answered gruffly.  
You froze, locking your knees.  
"No, no, no..."  
Dean grabbed your other wrist and continued to pull you down despite your protests. He turned on the lights in a small room, and in the middle of the room you saw Castiel sitting in a small chair.  
"Cas, help me," you pleaded. He shook his head.  
Dean pushed you into a chair and chained you to it. You struggled, but soon realized it was useless.  
"Cas, come here." The dark haired man obeyed, standing close to you. "Can you start?"  
Castiel nodded, reaching for your head. You jerked back, and he began to press lightly. His hands heated on your temples, and your mind spun. He pressed harder and a searing pain ripped through your head, down your spine and through your feet. You screamed, shaking against the the chains. You weren't focused on anything except the pain, _the pain,_ the pain was unbereable. You couldn't scream any louder, and you willed yourself to open your eyes. Your lids were lead, and you back and head spasmed every few seconds. Blue grace swirled around your head, stabbing at you. Tears streamed down your cheeks. "C-ca-c-c..." you stuttered. You shrieked, jerking against the chains as more fire tore through you. "Castiel," you pleaded, your sobs cracking. You slumped into the chair, your body physically unable to support itself; to take anymore pain. Your vision blurred and darkened just as another stab of pain split your head. Words and voices merged together as everything went completely dark.  
 _No more pain,_ you thought hopefully.


	17. In Which a Neon Light Explains Castiel

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry!! I abandoned you...also this memory stuff isn't canon but it is here.

A painful cough and a burning pain in your chest roused you from scattered dreams. You blinked thickly, your vision blurry. You choked on air; it seemed you hadn't breathed in ages. "Dean?" you croaked. "Where are you?" A pounding in your head grew stronger and stronger and you hung your head weakly. Your arms were still bound behind you. The last thing you remembered was going after the shadow spirit spitefully after Dean had hooked up with Helen. "Dean?" You managed to speak again, and panic grew in your voice. "Dean, I don't know where I am. Are you here?" Then, the spirit had attacked you and...."I don't remember why I'm tied up. Dean?" You craned your neck around, searching the dark room for clues. Suddenly, you jerked back against the chains. Dean was slumped on the floor, and blood was clumped in his hair. In the dark light, he looked dead. You screamed, your throat burning. "Dean! Dean! Please! Don't leave me here!" You sobbed, trying to yank your arms free. "I can't live here alone," you cried. "I don't want to live here without you and Cas." 

You crumpled back into the chair, choking out strangled sobs.  
"Y/N," you heard a gruff, familiar voice say. You squinted, trying to see through the shadows. He stepped into the light. You sobbed once more with relief.  
"C-Cas?" You sniffled. "What happened?" He lightly touched your shoulder and you flinched.  
"You were attacked by the spirit and lost your memories after serious brain damage. I attempted to repair them, but something went wrong." He gestured to Dean.  
"What should I do?" Castiel unlocked the chains.  
"Come." You followed him out of the room silently, rubbing your aching hands.  
"Cas, why was I chained up?" He ignored your question, grabbing one of your hands. You glanced down to where his hand met yours. _I haven't been touched in so long,_ you thought.  
"Y/N, listen to me. You need to see if anyone else in the bunker is awake."  
You frowned. "Why wouldn't they be?"  
Castiel grimaved and avoided your gaze. "I will explain later. Go."  
Thoughts and questions swirled in your head but you obeyed, sneaking up the staircase to the main room. Dead silence rung in your ears, its unwelcome voice pounding into your head. Sam was slumped on the counter, groceries spilled on the floor like he had been shot while going about his life. You carefully stepped next to him, laying a gentle hand on his cheek. It was still warm and you sighed with relief, letting your cold hand linger there longer than needed before reluctantly pulling away. You traced his sculpted jawline with stopples still on it. You pushed a stray strand of hair behind his ear, taking a moment of luxury to admire his face before continuing to inspect the bunker. The clock ticked and you gasped sharply, startled. _I need to hurry!_ You padded towards where Cas was.  


"Sam's asleep." He nodded, taking your icy hand in his warm one once again, and carefully pulling you with him through the bunker and out the front door.  
"Are you kidnapping me?" You asked as he led you through the night to the Impala. "Dean's not going to like it if be finds out you used the Impala."  
"When," corrected Cas quietly as he unlocked the car.  
You heard. "I'm sorry?"  
"When. When he finds out." Unspoken words shot at you. _He will be fine, and he will wake up._ And in that moment as his intense autumn eyes met yours, with the weight of the universe and the ocean in them and infinite wisdom of one who once knew God himself in his almighty holiness and lost that incredible peace; with so much sadness, you saw the undying love and trust _your_ half fallen angel had for the scarred, sinful hunter named Dean. He looked away, ducking into the car, but you stood frozen, staring distantly into the night horizon, your breath puffing out small clouds beneath your nose. Cold tears rolled into your eyes and down your cheeks. You finally understood. You finally saw true love. You saw someone who had watched and loved and loved and continued loving, one that had learned something from God, to love unconditionally. You glanced down into the car as he fumbled with the radio.  
"Y/N, we are running out of time," he informed you, as if he hadn't just shown his heart to you through his eyes. You nodded and sniffled, looking up into the sky and wind to dry your cheeks. The stars hung above you effortlessly and the light breeze whispered sweet nothings in your ears as it brushed by your face. "Y/N," his voice floated out to you and you closed your eyes to the stars, sitting down into the car. Castiel obviously had been getting driving lessons from Dean as his driving had much improved. Of course, he was still nervous and focused his attention on nothing but the road, but that just gave you time to study his solid face.  
His tight lips were pursed together in a tight concentration. His eyes darted over the road and the dull glow from the radio reflected in his eyes. The car began to pass into civilization and the hazy neon signs blurred together in your peripheral vision. A red sign's light hummed as you slowed to a stop in front of a lonely traffic light. Castiel craned his neck up to peer at the blinking traffic light. The neon light emitted a soft maroon glow on his face, and you could read the words _EZ! Grocery Market_ blurred on his face. A tired old musician was sprawled in a musty rocking chair, rocking gently and crooning a country song softly to an imaginary audience. The sign hummed and the chair creaked faintly. The traffic light _ticked_ and Castiel drove quickly, the dreamlike reverie hanging in the air. Everything was silent and numb, smudgy and hazy. You watched the dark hills grow larger as Castiel sped out of civilization again.  
 _I understand why Cas never returned all those years ago,_ you thought drowsily. _He loves Dean, not me._ Admitting that hurt, and you sighed deeply as your favorite angel glanced at you. _Oh well._ You watched Cas run a calloused hand through his soft, dark hair and your heart ached. _He should've chosen a female vessel,_ you slowly thought. _Cas has no gender, but Dean does and he only likes girls._ A pang of pain hit you. _Certain girls, that is._ "I'm sorry, Cas," you murmured as you drifted off to a land of sleepy cowboys with dark hair and wise autumn eyes that love the greeneyed bad guys under humming neon lights.

You awoke to faint arguing. You stretched out your limbs and stepped out of the Impala, yawning. You breathed in the fresh mountain air. Mountain? You frowned, looking around you. "Toto, I've a feeling we aren't in Kansas anymore," you muttered, walking to where the voices came from. You rounded the corner into a small room with a table and chairs. "Cas!" You called when the arguing ceased for a minute. Castiel and a tall man with similar bright blue eyes, dark hair and a beard walked into the room.   
"Y/N, I have been waiting for you to awaken. I must explain our problem. Sit. This is...Chuck." The dark haired man waved briefly.   
"Y/N, in attempting to restore your memories, I made a mistake and started to destroy their memories."  
"Their being Sam and Dean, right?" You clarified. Cas shook his head.  
"Anyone who has had contact with you in the past fifteen years." Horror spread over you, your body going numb. You grabbed Castiel's arm, squeezing in panic. Cas put a warm hand over yours comfortingly. "They are all in danger. It is dangerous adjusting memories and their minds are in a state of flux. If I do not finalize the memory process they will all die. However, I can save the memories of the short term people." You frowned.  
"Short term?"  
"Those who have known you in those 15 years for less than eight. You have not had much contact, so I will be to save the memories of most." You sighed in relief. "However, this does not include Sam and Dean. To them, you will never have existed."

_Dreams of sleepy cowboys with dark hair and wise autumn eyes that love the greeneyed bad guys under humming neon lights. And the easily forgotten girl with sad eyes who never was._


	18. In Which It Is The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, I'm sorry guys, but this is how I dreamed it ending. If people hate this I have an alternate ending...also for the painting think this: http://alicexz.deviantart.com/art/The-Roar-of-Our-Stars-292315617 except with Dean.

Your mouth went dry. "Dean and Sam won't remember me?"   
Cas opened his mouth, and then closed it. "I'm sorry. I made a mistake." Relief flooded through you. "Anyone who has very close relations, or anyone who has loved you, be it like a sister or girlfriend or friend, will forget you." Names rushed through your head, and you struggled to figure out who would forget you. "I know Sam and Dean will forget you."   
"What about you?" You whispered.  
Castiel's mouth twitched, and you saw the pain in his eyes as he lowered his head silently. He stepped close to you, wrapping his arms around your stiff back. You melted into his arms, burying your face into his trenchcoat, breathing in his scent, not wanting ever to leave his warm embrace.   
"I will forget you."  
"Everything?"   
He nodded, squeezing you tightly. You sighed into his chest, and one of his hands reached up to stroke your hair soothingly. "I'm sorry," he murmured softly. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to wake up in the bunker, for this nightmare to be over. He stood there, letting himself be hugged until you finally stepped back, pain radiating in your chest. "Is there anyone else that you know will forget you?"  
"Gabriel," you said quietly. "I'm not sure if he ever loved me, though."  
Castiel cocked his head sideways, as if he was confused.  
"He left me for Kali." You tried to speak nonchalantly, but your voice wobbled and betrayed you. "So anyone who has ever loved me will forget me? Why?"   
"They've left a mental impact on your memories and I accidently destroyed their memories of you instead of restoring them. When I realized what I had done, I stopped the process, but I must finish it. I simply wanted you to be safe."  
You bit your lip, trying to remain calm and not burst into sobs. Chuck stepped forward.   
"You can stay here for a while after Castiel finishes." You glanced at Cas.  
"I trust him, Y/N."  
"Thank you, sir," you whispered.   
"I need to pick some groceries up from town. I won't be back for a while, seeing as we're in the middle of nowhere," he chuckled.  
He motioned for Cas to follow him and they stood aside, talking in low voices. "Cas, when I get back, I think you should leave. I will be back tomorrow morning." Your angel nodded and Chuck left. You stared after him.   
"He seems nice," you commented. Something about Chuck radiated power, love. You liked him. You looked up at Cas, squinting in the warm morning light. You nuzzled into his chest again, sighing.   
"I'll still remember you, right?" You asked. You felt his head nod above you. "Good. I don't want to forget you." Tears sprung to your eyes again. He pried himself away from you and walked towards another room.   
"Would you like breakfast?" 

 

After eating and cleaning up, you walked outside, sitting on the hill over the deep valley. The beauty astounded you, and your eyes darted over every stream and tree in the valley, trying to soak it all in. Gusts of wind blew past you, and the delicate song of the birds drifted through the air.   
"Don't fall off," a gruff voice said behind you. You turned and gave Castiel a questioning look. "I was attempting to use humor." You stared into his bright eyes, admiring their depth and wisdom.  
"Let's do something fun," you decided, grabbing his hand and running down the hil to the house. "Is there any paint here?" You asked, rummaging through a cabinet. "Found it!" You set up two canvasses, water and then stuck a paintbrush in his hand. "Paint the most important person in your life."  
He stared at the brush before sitting in front of the canvas awkwardly. You dipped your brush in the water and then the watercolors. You dragged your brush across the page, replicating Castiel's perfect jawline. You sketched his head wth a tan and drew the details. You filled in the skin methodically, the only sound the light scratches of the brush against paper. Castiel was gently painting with short strokes. He was using rather interesting colours, pinks and blues. You couldn't see his canvas, so you settled on watching him. His mouth was slighty hanging open and his eyes bored into the paper with an incredibly intense concentration. You went back to your painting, scrumbling his skin color for a realistic effect. You carefully blended blues for the oceanic beauties that were his eyes. You flicked out the brush for his fluffy hair and used toothpicks for eyelashes. Finally, you sat back, rubbing your aching hand, pleased with your work. Castiel stood in front of a fiery background, with oranges and blues like how you had seen the sky when you watched the sunset with Gabriel. It wasn't Michelangelo but you thought it was pretty. 

You glanced over at Castiel's work, your breath hitching in your throat. Faint geometric squares and shapes started at the top, light blues and greens with dark orange on the right. The shapes came down, darkening to black and blue and dark brown at the bottom. Light sparkled and shimmered, little glowing dots like fireflies and angels and souls going to heaven. Dean stared up at the falling stars, his mouth opened like when he sees a beautiful woman or a good song comes on. His glittering green eyes reflected the symphony of color; his face was completely relaxed, the figure Cas had painted wasn't worried about protecting Sammy or seeming tough or doing what John ordered, this figure was overwhelmed with joy and beauty.   
"That's beautiful," you murmured. You and Cas later went down to the valley, poking around the trees and creeks until it began to darken and the sky erupted into rose and rust flames, and then you sat on the hill, watching the sun once more. She smiled at you, and you began to cry again. Cas wrapped you in his arms, and carried you to the house.

That night you made love to him for the first time, and as you took him over the edge, a name was moaned from his mouth. A name that you knew and loved that broke your heart; "Dean, _Dean,_ Dean, ohhh..."   
You had pretended not to care, you kissed him and stroked his face and curled up in his side but he had rolled away from you and you slept in different beds. _He regrets it,_ you knew, but you were selfish and wanted one last thing from him, and that wasn't a crime. When he woke, he walked outside into the morning air and you followed, watching as a rusty truck drove up. _Chuck._

He stepped out, taking your hand and your bags and telling you it was time, and you kissed Castiel once more and handed him his painting and told him you loved him. He said he knew and you told him to tell Dean and Sam you loved them. Castiel said he would but you knew he couldn't. He hugged you and stepped into the sleek black car and drove away and as the warm sun rose over Chuck's peaceful valley, a piece of you fell off and you knew they no longer knew you.


	19. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Short! Finnneee happy ending...or is it? I might add more.....

You were shaking. A month you had spent at Chuck's house, and a year you had spent back into the city.

You had trudged through life in the dense city, but each day was like dragging yourself and thousands of pounds of guilt and sadness through thick mud. You had gotten the painting you made of Castiel framed and hung it in your white room. The elderly man at the counter had briefly told you about his wife and children and how he had gotten a job there while his daughter gave birth. He mentioned his grandchildren, his face glowing angelically. He had kindly asked if Castiel was your boyfriend, and a smile you didn't realized had been there melted off your face briefly, only to return, nodding. He had smiled again, his ancient skin wrinkling at his eyes like papyrus. You had cried that night. 

You breathed, unclenching your white knuckles. You forced small drops of courage to swell up in you, but like when trying to blow up a water balloon, you could only push air into the thin plastic for so long. You parked your car, the gravel crunching the tires, and the warm spring sun bleeding through the windows. You stepped out into the thick, still air, smelling salt and whiskey already. You shut the door, listening for the _click_ before shoving keys into your pocket and walking to the door. You swallowed, squinting at the bright sun. _Can I help you?_ you imagined him saying, leaning his shoulders on the frame and staring expectantly. _Yes, you would say. Yes, I heard you might help me? I knew Jessica when we were little and I know about the bad things. He would narrow his eyes, and they would dart over you, assessing who you were, why you were here, were you lying? He would take so long his brother would come, invite you in and remember. They would hug you and cry and you would cry and hug._

You snapped back to reality with a stifled sob as you realized they would never remember. You would just lie your way back. You knocked, the hollow blow resounding in your chest. The door opened and Dean squinted at you.  
"Can I help you?"


	20. In Which You Return

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this is so out of character......uggghhh

_Can I help you?_  
His green eyes crinkled as he studied you, hand loosely wrapped around the slim curve of a beer bottle. You forgot to breathe, and air hitched in your throat.  
"I'm...a friend....used to be a friend of Jess's friend and I had a problem," you replied firmly. You weren't going to look at how his jaw clenched slightly at the name of Jess, or how he narrowed his eyes when you said problem, or how his perfect jawline sloped over his chin.  
"What kind of problem? We aren't bug exterminators, you know." He raised his chiseled chin, looking over you with a hint of a sneer curling at his lip, exposing white teeth. He took a swig from his bottle, green eyes never leaving you as his tongue darted out and swept over his lips, picking up any leftover beer. "Or divorce attourneys," he chuckled lowly.  


"Demons," you choked out. His face contorted into a sickening blend of hate and disgust that made fear boil in the depths of your gut, but only briefly as the smirk came back. After splashing you quickly with what you assumed was holy water, he muttered christo under his breath and then nodded at you. He motioned for you to follow him, and you blearily stepped through the threshold of your old life, desperately clinging on to happy memories here. He began to introduce you to Sam, and you swallowed deeply at the sight of your old friend.  
"Nice to meet you," Sam said cautiously. "I'm Sam, this is--"  
"I knew who you were," you whispered softly, and the swirling air in the bunker stilled.  
"I'm sorry?"  
"I mean, know who you are, Jess told me," you quickly corrected. "So. Jess? Is she still here?"  
Sam's face twisted in pain, and you winced. He turned sharply, adams apple bobbing quickly. He turned his head slightly at Dean, and you could see the corners of his mouth heavy with grief. Dean cleared his throat and turned to you uncomfortably.  
"Uh, um, no. She--well....there was an accident--a fire."  
"A fire," you repeated. "What about Cassiel?" You made sure to use the other form of his name, as if Jess had told you wrong.  
"He goes by Castiel. I haven't seen him in a few days. Sam?"  
Sam jerked up, his thumb lingering on a crack in the wood table that he had been studying and tracing intently while you spoke of Jess.  
"Huh?"  
"Cas. You seen him?"  
Sam shook his head.

Dean faced you again, leaned on the table with his elbows. The wood creaked lazily in the quiet bunker. "Demon problem? If you're running from them we don't want you here. We've got enough problems of our own," he said gruffly.  
You plopped in a rolling chair. "I'm not running," you answered, swinging side to side lazily. "I used to have a problem, but I got away. They did kill my family though..." your voice trailed off. "Wrong place at the wrong time I guess."  
Dean grimaced. "What do you want from us, then? What do we have that you want?"  
You leaned over the table, too, watching where his eyes wandered and smiling to yourself. "Knowledge. I figured I should learn how to protect myself from these things. I already know a little." You smiled flirtatiously.  
"Okay, Ms. I know already, how do you kill a vampire?"  
"Cut off its head," you recited, almost mechanically.  
He was impressed. A thrill of pride surged throughout you as you watched him watch you. You froze, realizing something. _What I lacked before, they no longer remember. I can be what Dean wants now. I get a second chance at life._

You were sitting with Dean in the library, you were dragging your finger gently over the pages and silently mouthing the complicated Latin names. Dean looked bored. You glanced at him as a sigh escaped from him. You cleared your throat, tucking a piece of hair behind your head.  
"You know," you started shyly, "you don't have to sit with me. I can read it myself."  
Dean stared at you, a strange look on his face you just couldn't quite place.  
"Go!" You urged firmly, waving him away. _This time I won't be clingy,_ you decided. He grinned at you before standing and sauntering out of the room. You blushed, leaning on your elbow as you continued to read. 

"Y/N," he barked. You dropped your book, heart racing.  
"Good Lord, Dean," you said, placing a hand on your trembling chest.  
"Sorry," Dean replied, grinning at you with a shit eating grin that meant anything but sorry. He bent down and handed your book to you. "We've got a Winchester family tradition to take out any newbies to a bar. Come on," he urged. You frowned. _They've never had newbies before. And they never did this for me before...._  
"B-b-but it's so early," you stammered, gesturing vaguely to the roof. He laughed again. _I have never seen him like this._  
"Y/N, it's almost ten. You've been reading all day. Calm down." He smirked at you and you followed him out. 

Inside the Impala, the stars rushed by your head like ribbons stretching across the dark sky. Dean turned on the radio, and you were about to automatically take out your ipod and listen to music, but after glancing at Dean playing air guitar and Sam scolding him for not keeping his hands on the wheel, you decided against it. _Dean likes girls who like his music._ A screeching guitar riff clashed with the singer's raspy voice and you tried not to cringe. You sighed deeply, staring out the window at the billowing dark clouds and reckless stars. 

The same style of music roared in the bar, and Dean shouted something that was lost in the haze of music and yelling.  
"What?!" You screamed back.  
Dean repeated himself, lips moving silently. You heard a click and a group of burly men cheered racously. You glanced over to see a pool table and money being exchanged. Dean began to wander in that direction, so you followed him, watching as a tall, skinny blond rubbed against the crotch of a man, watched how she stretched herself on him and how he moaned. You 'accidedently' bumped Dean, your hand reaching for his jeaned behind, not so subtly stroking. His eyebrows shot up, and he leaned into you, smirking. You returned the flirtatious smile, growing bolder and grinding your boobs into his side. _What am I doing?_ you wondered. _This is not the kind of relationship I want. He doesn't know me. I'll be just another one night stand._ Suddenly, Dean pulled away from you. You looked up, directly into Castiel's piercing blue eyes.


	21. In Which....It's Complicated...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took so long I'm so sorry ;;_;; I love you guys <3

"Cas!" You gasped, clamping a hand over your mouth. You scrambled away from Dean's side, ignoring the questioning gaze he gave you as you looked away, face burning with embarrassment. _He thinks I'm a whore,_ you inwardly wailed.  
"Y/N, how--"  
"Jessica," you blurted, "Jessica told me...about...a guy with, just, described you basically." You looked up at Castiel's deep eyes again, tugging at the low cut shirt you wore awkwardly. Dean glanced at Cas worriedly. "But that's all she said, I don't know anything else," you added hastily.  
"Well, you obviously know who he is, but," Dean gestured to Cas and lowered his voice, "He's an angel." You laughed, the fake sound echoing through you stiffly.  
"That's sweet," you said.  
"You do not understand." Castiel stared at you, and his husky voice made you want to throw yourself at his feet, letting your fears erase themselves in his warm trenchcoat. But he no longer knew you, so you stood calmly, awkwardly. "I am not a metaphorical angel, I am a real angel. I am an Angel of the Lord."  
You pretended to be impressed, staring up at him with wide eyes.  
"Wow," you whispered, "An angel? I never thought angels were this......human," you finished.  
"I can assure you, my true form is much more impressive."  
"I'll bet," you muttered, before turning to Dean, your stomach suddenly lurching with worried nausea, the type that comes from anxiety. "Dean, I don't feel good....could I go back?" You clutched his arm tightly, hand shaking. Dean looked back at the scantily clad girls wistfully, sighing, and another wave of the horrible feeling washed through you. You wanted to vomit. You wanted to grab his face and scream that he knew you, you wanted your old life.  
 _Even with all this makeup and clothing and acting slutty he still prefers those stars._ A laugh rang out and one of the stars locked eyes with you, raising her eyebrows, analyzing you, no doubt wondering why you, _you_ were with a beautiful man like Dean. "Dean, seeing as you are obviously more interested in the women than your new hunter trainee, I will take her back." You released Dean and clutched on to Castiel tightly. Dean nodded absently and wandered to the giggling stars, flirtatious smirk on his face and you felt murderous and cruel but before you could do anything you were suddenly you were at the bunker once more.

You stood, studying Castiel from the side, his tight jaw and slight stubble and then you realized he was looking pointedly at his forearm, where you gripped his arm tightly.

"Oh! Sorry!" You released him like a piece of burning iron. He frowned. You stepped away from him awkwardly and took a deep breath, trying to ease the silence. Cas continued to stare, and made eye contact, heart melting as you saw his autumn blue eyes so close since......you weren't sure how long. He tilted his head, studying you, but there was no recognition in his eyes. Without realizing what you were doing, you slowly reached out a hand, shaking, and brushed his hair back. He stiffened, like he had done when you touched him in your apartment after kissing him. He grabbed your hand, stilling it from its path over his head. You swallowed.

"The wind messed it up," you whispered, looking away. His grip softened, and as your hand reached the very back of his head, his eyes flew wide, and he crumpled to the ground, groaning in agony. You gasped, leaping back. He clutched his head, clawing at it, as if some fire burned inside. You dropped next to him, your hands roaming over his head, trying to help him. Every time your hand landed on him, it seemed to cause him more pain. You ran, away, out, sobbing. 

"Sam! Sam! Help! I need help! Sam," you choked out, pounding on his door. It flew open, and Sam gripped your arm tightly. "What?! What's wrong?"

"Cas...." you sobbed weakly. Fear spread over his face as a moan came from the other room. He ran, dragging you behind him as you stumbled behind. He froze, seeing the angel sprawled on the floor. 

"Y/N, what happened?" His voice was stern, cold as he attempted to sit Castiel up. "Get water," he ordered, hearing your silence. You sprinted into the other room, grabbing a water bottle and unscrewing it frantically. You stuck it into Sam's waiting hand, and he helped Cas drink it. Cas choked, water dripping off his face and staining his trench coat. You watched the water spots, refusing to look him in the eyes.

"Go get some rest, yeah?" Sam patted Cas on the back, gently pushing him to the couch. You studied the floor as the angel's footsteps grew silent. Sam frowned at you. "What was that?" 

"I don't know...." your voice trailed off. Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair. 

"Fine. Call me if anything else happens, alright?" You nodded mutely, watching him walk away. _I'm not calling you._ You walked slowly to your room, touching the plain wall that had so long ago been yours, so long ago been alive. The room was so empty, and it took you only a few minutes to pack everything. You surveyed the room one last time, bringing your hand to your lips and then pressing it carefully on the wall as a goodbye to the bunker. _I won't need to call you._ The landscape rushed by you as you rested your head against the glass. _I won't be there to cause trouble._ You stopped, the light blinking red lazily in the dark. _I hope you have a good life._ You stepped out of your car, digging in your purse for your apartment keys, and you never saw him coming, never saw his black eyes. _I lo--_

You never finished the thought.


	22. In Which Your Life is Collapsing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is way out of my comfort zone. I have never written Crowley so tell me if he's in character please.

A blur of color appeared in your vision as you groggily opened your eyes. You moaned softly, your head pounding. You tried to reach up a hand to rub your bruised forehead, but the solid hold of rope around your wrists made that impossible. Straining as hard as you could, you discovered the rope wrapped around your whole torso and legs, keeping you securely attached to the chair.  
"Someone doesn't want me leaving," you muttered, trying to see in the dark room.  
"That's right," purred a strange voice next to you. You jerked against the rope, pain radiating through your arm. _Where did he come from?_ you thought frantically. The figure walked in front of you, and the blood drained from your face as you saw your captor. _Crowley._ He knelt down, coming eye to eye with you. "I need something, and you have it." Your lip quivered as you struggled not to show fear, so you raised your chin defiantly. "And what would that be?" 

Crowley walked behind you, and a hand stroked your hair. _Don't let him get to you,_ you told yourself firmly. You knew he was trying to unnerve you. The hand tangled itself in your hair, and you whimpered despite yourself.  
"The Winchesters."  
You gritted your teeth. "No." His grip on your hair tightened. You turned your head sideways, pulling from his hand.  
"You do realize I always get what I want?" His clipped words seethed with rage.  
"Maybe you should've been disciplined more as a child," you snarled, refusing to let him know how frightened you were.  
The King of Hell let go of your hair abruptly, and he pulled a chair out of a dark corner of the room and sat in front of it, facing you. Your gaze lingered on that corner, and you wanted nothing more than to see the moon, or the stars, but all you saw were his cold eyes and his cruel dark suit.  
"Maybe we can make a compromise." Crowley's voice was suave again, and he made a gesture into the dark. One of his minions appeared and dragged a chair into the light, the metal scraping painfully on the concrete. "You have someone I want, and so do I." The chair held a body, but the head was covered. The minion removed the covering, and the bruised face underneath groaned faintly.  
You shook your head, eyes glued to the face. "This is a trick. She's dead. She was killed by a ghost. I watched her die."  
Crowley smirked at you. "I'm the king of Hell, darling, I can bring the dead back." He stood, stepping over to the body. "Your sister. I can see the resemblance. Both weak girls, but she is much prettier than you." You scowled. Her eyes flickered open, and your heart ached. "She won't know who you are. I know what you did," he hissed. "You made them forget you. Nothing is ever really forgotten, though." You longed to hug her, to tell her how sorry you were for letting her die. "Look at you. You know you want to save her. You couldn't last time, could you? But do what I want, and you'll get a second chance." Your sister's eyes fluttered opened groggily, blood still staining her face from the last time she died.  
"Where am I?" She muttered, looking around with wide eyes. "Who are you?" Tears pushed through your eyes.  
"Or you can refuse and she'll die again. You'll miss your chance to save her." His demon minion appeared out of the shadows again with a knife, and you started babbling frantically, your words resounding hollowly in your head.  
"No, no, please, don't hurt her, not again, please..." you begged.  
"Again? What's going on?" Your sister craned her neck around, confusion etched in her face.  
"Will you do what I want or will she die again?" The knife dipped dangerously close to her neck.  
"Wait, can't we talk about this?" You sobbed.  
"Who's dying?" asked your sister frantically.  
Crowley seemed bored as he sliced her neck open, blood pouring out of the wound and staining her lacy shirt like the milky way. She gasped, her head jerking as she struggled to breathe, bleeding instead.  
"It was a yes or no question, darling, you answered no. I don't break promises." The demon dragged the chair away as you choked out strangled sobs. "You do realized I'll still get what I want, yes?" He sat down in front of you. "Now, let's start again."

"I'll never help you," you managed to screech between sobs.  
"Don't be so hasty. Who else will I have to kill?" You didn't realized how violently you were shaking until Crowley mentioned killing again.   
"Please....don't hurt anyone else," you cried. "Hurt me instead."   
"Fine. I will." He motioned to his minion, who approached you, gripping his knife with a sadistic smirk. The first slice didn't hurt much. The second one, near your neck, in sensitive areas, created a deep burning that only got worse the more he cut. The demon continued slicing like he was trying to cut you to pieces as Crowley continued demanding you help him. Blood soaked and sobbing, tears mingling with metallic blood, you begged him to stop.   
"That's what you want, and that's why I won't. Help me or I'll find someone else you care about. I'm sure we could make arrangements to have some more torture if you enjoy that."   
"What do you want from me?" you wailed.   
"The Winchesters. I'll let you go unharmed if you get close to them again and give me information."  
You thought you were shaking, screaming with rage, a fury of _"I'll never help you"_ and _"I won't be your spy",_ and you spit in his face and kicked him and shook the chair, but in reality, you sat there quivering, staring at your sister's limp body slumped over the chair grotesquely, like a low budget horror film and you couldn't even look him in the eye. You nodded numbly.   
"We're done here then, aren't we?" He smiled slyly and knelt in close, his beard scratching your cheek and breath in your ear. "And if you try to betray me," he whispered, his British accent making you shiver, "I'll kill you and them both." The King walked away into the shadows before you could even muster a 'go to hell' and left you in the dark. The pain and shock had taken a toll on you physically and emotionally, and you drifted into a state of unconsciousness where you dreamed of angels in rocking chairs and when your biggest problem was Jessica. In your dreams, she sat under a neon light while Cas rocked in a chair lazily singing blues with Dean and Sam waited at a clicking traffic light and you were smelling flowers in Chuck's valley again. 

 

A gentle shaking roused you from your peaceful dreams, and the sun that had been kissing your skin in your dreams was replaced by a cold flashlight. You squinted into the light, coughing weakly while you tried to look at your rescuer.   
"Who are you?" You questioned, your voice rasping like gravel.   
Your rescuer stopped shining the flashlight in your eyes and you stopped breathing.   
"You're.....Gabriel." _My long lost angel._ The tears started flowing again and you tried to awkwardly brush them away. Gabriel started untying the ropes, and another angel behind him, whom you had never seen, made a comforting shushing noise and attempted to dry your tears. You blushed in the dark, not able to see any facial features and being glad for that. You stood, rubbing your wrists and Gabriel immediently grabbed your arm and dragged you out of the building. You stumbled over the ground, confused and a little alarmed.   
"Where are you taking me?"   
"You're in danger. Crowley is after you. He's trying to kidnap you," responded your angel. You held back a snort. _No shit, Gabriel._  
"You'll be safe with us." A warm two fingers were placed on your forehead and concerned whiskey eyes were the last thing you saw.


	23. In Which the Moon is Not Like the Movies

Your eyes opened not where you were hoping you were. You leaned your head back, feeling stone scrape against your sore scalp. "Traveling with an angel and he can't even bother to bring me somewhere nice," you muttered softly, rubbing your aching limbs. Gabriel squatted in front of you, staring into your face with a lopsided grin.  
"Morning, Sleeping Beauty." You rescuer helped you up and you groaned, not wanting to put weight on your limbs. Gabriel put a hand on your back to steady you and you stiffened, taking a shuddering breath. _Does he remember what happened?_ He removed his hand, and you ignored his questioning look.  
"Who are you?" The man in the black coat was unfamiliar to you.  
"My name is Balthazar," he responded, his voice edged in what you thought might be a French accent. You nodded, eyeing his worn face attempt to see if he was trustworthy. He looked like someone who didn't take things seriously and you decided he was probably fine.  
"Alright, my name is Y/N...I was with the Winchesters for a few days," you began, chewing your lip nervously, "and I just needed to finish some business at home when I was kidnapped." You shot a grateful glance at Gabriel, "and I was rescued." He nodded almost thoughtfully.  
Balthazar narrowed his eyes at you. "So you know the Winchesters?"  
"Yeah, sort of."  
"Was Castiel there?" A subtle edge in his voice became more apparent, and Gabriel glanced at him.  
"Yes." Your voice was soft compared to his.  
"I haven't seen old Castiel in ages." Balthazar's voice was suddenly light. Suspicion flared in you at the sudden change in his voice. "Could I ask you something about him?" You bit your lip again. "Alone?" He held out a hand.  
 _What does he want?_ Staring at the unfamiliar angel, you tried to think of what he might want. _I guess it doesn't really matter._ After a couple of awkward seconds, you relented, taking his hand in your grasp nervously.

"Where are we?" Your voice echoed around the small room.  
"Just inside a warehouse. Nowhere special." He walked around in front of you. "I need you to do me a favor."  
"Alright...." you replied cautiously.   
"You are returning to the Winchester brothers, yes?"  
"I don't know why I wouldn't." Your answer was more for you than for him.  
"I need you to keep an eye on Cassie for me. He hasn't talked to me in a long time, not since heaven was closed and Lucifer started working with Crowley. Every so often, just pray and tell me, and I'll keep you around." He smirked at you. "You're a cute one." You blushed, looking down at your hands. "So, you understand, don't you?" His voice hardened and a hand pulled your chin up into narrowed eyes. "You will help me." You nodded fearfully, and Balthazar let go of your face and turned away. "Tell dear brother Gabe I wanted to know if Castiel was alright." 

He returned you back to Gabriel, where you composed your breathing and told the suspicious angel Balthazar just wanted to know if Cas was still alive and well, and he accepted the story and brought you to the bunker door. Gabriel smirked at you, but you only felt pain as his golden eyes swept over you. _What about Kali?_ The fact that she was nowhere to be seen brought you a little sadistic pleasure, but you didn't know how you could forgive him, even though he didn't know what he had done. It was dark now, and the moon shone off his face as you stood next to him, like in the movies after the first date where the nice boy and the nice girl stand in front of her door under the dim porch light with their fingers intertwined gently together and the air conditioning humming and they say what a nice date this was and they sweetly kiss and it's all very innocent and all the girls in the warm theater sigh as they watch the kiss because they want one too. But life is not like the movies, and if he really loved you then why did he leave? You sighed, your warm breath clouding the air like a gentle wave. You glanced up at the sky, but there were no stars.   
"Thank you," you said mechanically and he nodded and then he left and you knocked on the door and you also wanted to cry. _It's just too much. Everyone keeps telling me to watch someone else._  
Sam silently opened the door and you walked past him and said you had needed to fix some things at your apartment and ignored Castiel's glares and shoved past Dean and very quietly walked into your room and sat in the darkness with both feet flat on the floor and rolled up your sleeves to look at the wounds. Long slits in your skin adorned your arms, as out of place as an English mansion in India with their long silk rugs and fair skin under the beating sun. You cringed as you saw your left arm, deeper cuts, and you quickly rolled down your sleeves and removed the cuts from your mind because who needs more negativity? and you went about unpacking very orderly and very cleanly with everything in exactly the right place and you know it was all wrong because your room was white, solid white with nothing on the floor and walls and was all very very small and you wanted to cry because the world was collapsing in on you.   
"Before," you whispered to the empty room, "before it was real but now it's not real anymore." You put your bag in the corner and loomed at the bed and the dresser and the bag and decided that was enough and lay in the crisp bed under the slickly folded sheets and crinkled them, looking at the scars in your skin like braille. The window reflected moonshine on your ceiling to a constellation of cobwebs written in a forgotten language that slowly dropped letters onto your eyes until they closed into magical dreams of cowboy angels and neon trafficlights and psych departments and the man with the sharp teeth and blood stain and the windy day long long ago. 

When you woke, the windy day was no more and gentle sheets of lemon washed through the window and you were momentarily happy, dizzily delusional with some kind of early morning happiness which made you forget that Sam thought you were a murderer, Cas no longer trusted you, Dean thought you were a whore and still undesirable, Crowley had tortured you and killed your sister again and forced you to spy for him, Gabriel was trying to flirt with you but you knew what had happened last time and Balthazar also wanted you to spy and once you remebered all this the glow faded and you stiffly prepared for your day.   
"I want do research," you announced at the table, swallowing thickly because it was a lie.  
Dean raised an eyebrow. "What?"   
"I will do research. I don't want to go on hunts." You repeated, making your second lie of the morning.   
"Fine," he answered, not caring and you didn't know whether to be hurt or pleased and you stood, walked to the library and read.   
You didn't really observe Castiel when he came in. You didn't see how he walked or how he read.  
 _It was slow, at first. When he picked up a book, he would drag his fingers over the cover and then open it and read the copyright and publication notes and turn one page every 180 seconds and then the next one would turn in 104 and then 89 and then he would skim the pages, turning the page every 56 seconds, but you could see him fully absorbing the book._  
You didn't watch him a lot. You mostly read. _He would comment later you spent more time watching him than your book._  
You never talked to him. _"Can you pray for me, Cas?" You asked him one stormy night in the library, your voice small and scared. You were having nightmares again and you woke up crying._   
You never touched the angel. _You leaned a little closer, nestling your head on his warm shoulder and humming quietly as you read._  
Each day you had been waking up sad, until one morning it got better. You went into the library, already humming, already watching him and you felt a warm glow in your heart. You sat next to him.   
"You make me happy, Cas," you commented, holding a book on vampires.   
He stared at you, and that night you prayed to Balthazar and Crowley, telling them all you knew about Cas. _You didn't tell them Cas liked to be hugged around the neck, not the middle or that he liked when you hummed Regina Spektor and that he read aloud the production details of a book to see you laugh._   
You weren't guilty. It was self preservation. _You couldn't sleep well that night. The trees whispered traitor while your heater said self preservation._

When you went to the library Cas was not there.


	24. In Which You Aren't Sure Who Cares for You

You dropped your book. You ran, feet pounding the floor as you barged into the room where Sam and Dean sat peacefully.  
"Where is Castiel?" Your voice betrayed you, wavering with emotion.  
Dean stared at you, his face showing how surprised he was at this outburst.  
"Why--"  
"Where is he?!" You were screaming at him, and then realising how close you were to him, took a step back. Your chest heaved in and out, but all you could think of was Cas. He had become stability for you. You were comforted in knowing thar certain things would always happen, like when you dropped cream in tea it would swirl and if you pet a cat it would purr and if you went into the library in the morning Cas would be there. The adrenaline rushed out of you as you saw Dean flinch and you sank to the floor, on the brink of tears.  
"I just need to know where he is, he's always there," you sobbed, the tears flowing freely now. "He's always there and now he's gone." Dean glanced at Sam worriedly and squatted next to you.  
"Hey, Y/N, it'll be fine. He just went out this morning. I'm sure he's fine." Dean rested a hand on your arm, and you shook your head.  
"He's not here now....He said he would be here," you continued.  
"Sometimes people get caught up in things and can't do what they say they would."  
"BUT THAT'S WHAT HE DID LAST TIME," you screamed, jerking away from Dean hysterically and scrambling to your feet. "He said he would never leave and he did for HER! Why was she so much better?" Dean shot a look at Sam again, confusion in his face. They didn't understand but they never do. Like Gabriel did, and Kali and why would he do that? You were sobbing again. You thought Cas cared for you and then he left like his brother and Dean and his brother. Didn't anyone care about you?  
"Why did he leave?" Your voice was softer now.  
"Cas?"  
Rage filled you again. _They are so stupid. They understand nothing._  
"No!"  
"Who?"  
"Him!" You knew you couldn't say Gabriel. _Gabriel._  
"Who is he?" Dean dragged his fingers through his dirty blonde hair in annoyance.  
 _Gabriel!_ You froze. _Get a grip!_  
"What?" The words ghosted from your lips.  
"What what? I asked who is he?" Sounds echoed in your head, and a loud ringing noise buzzed in your head. Everything grew quiet except for one persistant thought. _Get a grip!_  
You couldn't speak, and you sobbed again, gripping onto Dean's firm arm. "I'm sorry," you choked out.  
His face contorted in confusion. "For what?" You shook your head. "Hey, look at me. For freaking out? That's fine. I can get this stuff is stressfull. " His hand reached out to your cheek and guided your gazeq from the floor to his worried green eyes. "What are you sorry for? Hell, you've only been here for a few months."  
"I'm just so tired...I don't want Cas to leave like everyone does." You swallowed. "I'm just so scared. I'm scared of the future. I graduated college when I was nineteen. I was so 'gifted,'" you made air quotations, "I skipped two years. But I got into a bad job and wasted years and I have no friends or money and--" you cut off, realization dawning on you. "Wait a minute." Your grip tightened on Dean before you stood. "I--I need to talk to someone. I'll be back." You turned to leave, chewing on your fingernail before facing Dean again. "Thank you."  
You ran out to your car, driving away from the bunker. When you were sure Dean wasn't following you, you stopped your car, got out, and dropped to your knees.  
"Balthazar, I don't know if you're listening, but please come here, I need you." You opened your eyes carefully, letting a breath out, relieved, when you saw the dark blond angel standing in front of you.  
"Balthazar, I need an explanation." You strode over to the angel, clipping your words. "When I left the city, I was 34 years old."  
"And very unhappy about that, as I recall," he chuckled. You stood, incredulous. "I listened in on your thoughts."  
"Nevermind that, I look 22 and the boys look no older than they did when I left them last last time!"  
Balthazar frowned. "Did I forget to tell you? I'm a kind angel. I reversed your age. And the boys. You, darling, get a chance to start over." You shook your head, staring at the angel's stormy eyes. "Why?" You whispered. He had literally turned back time.  
He tweaked your nose and you scrunched your nose at him. "You remind me of Cassy back before he got so....tragic." He looked away before making eye contact with you again. "It'd be a shame to see you die so soon. Humans are so fragile." A tear slipped down your cheek.  
"Poor Castiel, he loves the humans so. He got so attached to the older one. I pity him." Balthazar placed a hand tenderly on your face and a wistful look appeared on his face. "Don't lose his wonder. Castiel lost it, but you still have it." Thunder rumbled in the dark sky. You glanced up at the sky, and when you looked back, the angel had gone. You smiled, moisture on your cheeks. You let the rain fall on you so you would have an excuse for your damp face when you got back. You gently touched where Balthazar had put his hand, warmth spreading through you. Dean stared at you when you returned, but you were floating. 

That night, you dreamed of the angels, young again in heaven, Balthazar and Gabriel and Castiel and Michael talking happily and youthfullness filling the heavens until a book dropped and Balthazar watched the angels drop and Castiel harden and you saw the flickering traffic light go out.  
The next morning, Castiel was still not there but you were fine. Another angel was watching over you. (And a demon, but nevermind that.) You begged to go on a hunt and the green eyed brother relented and he and you drove out to a strange little house where a girl had gone missing. "Just a salt and burn," he reminded you as you walked in and you nodded, but there was a sprout of fear in you that you stomped out quickly. Dean went to find the girl and Sam found the grave, surprisingly clearly marked and you began digging. Your muscles ached and stretched as you shoved the shovel deep into the wet ground, but you enjoyed the pain. _Soon I'll be strong again. Soon I'll be strong again._ You repeated this rhymically as you shoveled mud away. Sam dusted off the coffin, finally, and you rested on your shovel. Sam sprinkled salt on the bones, and you flicked open the lighter, biting your lip, biting your tongue, then setting the bones on fire. The ghost appeared and you clung to Sam, remembering the unbearable pain and the sickening smell of burning flesh--your burning flesh. The ghost burst up into flames before you could even blink, and Dean walked out of the door, carrying the victim-- of course a dainty black haired blue eyed beauty that would probably fuck Dean out of gratefulness later. He set her down carefully, maintaining eye contact constantly as he walked her to the car. You realized you were still clutching Sam and let go quickly.  
"I'm going to check inside the house, make sure there aren't any more ghosts, okay?" Sam nodded absently, walking to the car as you headed inside the house. You crept in, sun seeping through the clouds into the house through foggy windows. You glanced into an abandoned bedroom, clutching your salt.  
Suddenly, a hand grabbed your shoulder and shoved you forcefully against the wall, covering your mouth with another hand.  
"Someone hasn't been saying her prayers," purred a familiar British voice.  
You struggled against his strong grip to no avail, and he just chuckled. "That won't work, sweetheart," he spit out. "You told me you would get close to the Winchesters," Crowley hissed. "Letting Dean screw every girl that crosses his path isn't getting close." He lifted his hand to let you speak.  
"I'm getting close to Castiel first," you explained desperately.  
"You're not working hard enough."  
"I'll do it! But why can't you just do it yourself? Just barge in with demon minions and kill them?"  
"Believe me, I've tried. I need a new strategy. You. And don't think you're special or anything, I'll still kill you when this is over." He let you go abruptly and walked towards the rear end of the house, leaving you panting and crumpled on the floor. The demon paused. "Some incentive to work harder." He waved his hand, and the last thing you saw was the musty bed flying towards your head.

 

 _I'm sorry._ You awoke, gasping for breath in your crumpled chest. Sam rushed to your side, holding you still.  
"Easy, easy." You coughed, blood splattering on the ground.  
"Sam," you whimpered, "I'm scared."  
"You're gonna be fine." He held you tightly, his eyes concerned. "Just breathe."  
"Where's Dean?"  
"I don't know. I heard you scream, but Dean had already driven off to drop Alison at her house. I called him, but he didn't answer."  
You rested your head in Sam's lap. "Alison?" You rasped. Pain spiked out every time you breathed.  
"The girl Dean 'rescued'. She was fine. The ghost only kept her here for a day or two. No one thought to look here, but a few kids told us it was haunted." Sam had already told you this before the hunt, but his voice was deep and soothing. You were scared.  
"Am I gonna be okay?"  
Sam stroked your hair. "You're gonna be fine. Nothing's gonna hurt you." He kept his voice low and quiet. "We just need to wait."  
"G-go get help."  
"I'm not leaving you here. Not alone when I still don't know what threw the bed at you. Did you see it?"  
You squeezed your eyes shut, taking another painful, shuddering breath. "No."  
"Then I'm staying right here. Try to relax." You melted in his warm arms, dozing off once more with Sam's fingers tangled in your hair.


	25. In Which Your Friends are Your Enemies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long....*sweats*

You awoke groggily. "I am sick of waking up," you grumbled, trying to prop yourself up on one sore elbow. Slipping out from underneath a light sheet, you vaguely heard Sam walking around from inside the bunker. You walked into the room where the sound was coming from, smiling at Sam.  
"Hi," you greeted.  
"Good morning." His voice was oddly formal, clipped.  
You nodded, your stomach starting to growl. "Any food to eat?" Out of the corner of your eye you could see Sam watching you. _What is he doing?_  
"Not right now. Come sit down." He pulled a chair and patted it, sitting down in a chair himself. You suspiciously walked over and sat it in carefully.  
"Is something wrong?"  
"Mind explaining how you didn't see what threw the bed at you?"  
You froze. The blood drained from your face and the room grew so silent you could hear your heart pounding. Sam stood.  
"You see, we're not stupid. After Dean took you back to the bunker, I did some looking around. Try to find out what happened." Sam leaned down eye level with you, and you flinched. "Guess what I found on the windows."  
You shook your head, swallowing nervously.  
"Sulphur. At first I just thought that a demon had snuck up on you, but then I realized how much there was. Only powerful demons leave as much as I found, as I'm sure you know. That meant that it was a head demon, like Crowley." You shivered.  
"Sam, I--"  
He held up a hand. "I was confused. What did this mean? What did a big demon like Crowley have against you?" Sam turned back to you. "I tried to figure it out, and I had one theory, but I just couldn't bring myself to believe it. So while you were out with head injuries, I did a little research on my own."  
"What about Dean?"  
"He doesn't know. I summoned a little demon, and guess what she told me."  
"What?" The word stuck in your dry throat.  
"I think you know," he hissed. You desperately shook your head. "I learned that demons are more trustworthy than you, seeing as you've been helping Crowley."  
"Sam please, I can explain."  
"What is there to explain? You've been using us."  
"I didn't want to!"  
"Bullshit." You flinched again.  
"Sam, he forced me to."  
He laughed, a sarcastic, rasping laugh. "I highly doubt it. Tell me, when did you start working for him? Or have you been working for him all along? Were you ever sincere? Did you ever even care?"  
His words stung. _Sam, you wanted to say. Sam, I spent years waiting for you and you tell me I don't care?_ A tear slipped down your cheek.  
Sam glanced at your wet cheek. "Don't pull the innocent girl trick. Vampires and demons and guilty people overuse it horribly." He glanced at the clock. "When Dean gets back from the food run, we'll talk. Figure out what to do with traitors."  
"Sam, no, please. If I had been working with Crowley or Lucifer willingly why would've they thrown a bed at me?"  
"I'm not listening to you." Sam was loading a gun, and your stomach lurched. "I just don't understand. Why would you do this?" Your heart ached.  
"I'm sorry," you whispered. Sam locked all the doors in the bunker and then tied you to the chair. You silently prayed to Crowley, cursing him. When Dean arrived, Sam quickly filled him in, the brothers sending you disapproving, disappointed looks. Tears fell down your cheeks, puddling in your lap. You were fiddling with the knot when you realized pulling a certain part loosened it. _Sam must have been so upset he made a bad knot._ You quickly slid your hands out of the rope, watching carefully as Sam pulled Dean out of the room to discuss you.  
You stood, grabbing a carelessly left out gun and slinking behind Dean. Before his brother could warn him, you had pulled Dean's head close to you and had the gun pressed against him.  
"Let me go," you demanded, your voice wavering as you blinked back more tears. The betrayed look in Sam's eyes almost made you put down the gun and embrace him, sobbing, but then he pulled out his gun fast as a bullet and unblinkingly shot you in the shoulder, and you just dropped your gun, never having had any real intention of shooting Dean. You shrieked in pain, clutching at your shoulder.  
"Sam," you wailed, forgetting he hated you. His face was hardened, and as he readied the gun again, you knew you had crossed a line with threatening Dean. You dodged the next bullet, hysterically sobbing as you struggled to open a door or a window or something to escape. Sprinting from room to room, finally you found one window that hadn't been locked as you squeezed out, running as fast as your weak legs could carry you. After running for what seemed like forever, you prayed to Crowley, who wordlessly took a look at you and scooped you up into his arms.  
"I hate you," you muttered.  
He simply hummed in acknowledgment. Crowley brought you to his house (you weren't sure where... probably in hell--you had fallen asleep) and gave you a glass of 'Craig'.  
"My favorite," he sighed, inhaling the scent of a glass he had poured. You eyed him suspiciously. "Oh, drink up, darling. It's not poisoned." His voice was so smooth and you were so tired that you drank it all, against your better judgement. Actually, you had several glasses and you ended up sobbing on the King of Hell's shoulder about how the boys didn't trust you anymore. (You did manage to keep a clear enough head not to mention Balthazar.) He wrinkled his nose in disgust at the 'filthy, bloody human' using him as a pillow. Somehow you were brought to a bed, where you groggily lay, staring at the dank ceiling and cradling your arm. Crowley had had a few minions patch up your arm. _But he wasn't an angel and he couldn't heal you,_ you thought miserably. After a little bit you got up, still feeling a little tipsy and asked the demon guard-minion to find Crowley for you. He appeared instantly and you told him you wanted to leave. He frowned at you.  
"Very well. You may leave, but you must find a way to get back to the Winchesters. Get hurt or something."  
Anger flared in you.  
"Really? You're the reason they're angry at me!"  
The demon king's eyes flashed dangerously. "Listen to me, you sniveling human. You will find the Winchesters or you will die. Do you understand me?" His British voice seethed with rage.  
You nodded fearfully.  
"Go."  
You were suddenly out in a field, with the sun shining cheerfully despite the demon's dark words. You were surprised Crowley had let you go in the first place, but considering you weren't dead or seriously injured, you considered yourself lucky and quickly decided he had taken the news fairly well. The hardest was yet to come.  
You tramped through the field, dry reeds and grass crunching beneath your feet peacefully. The silent day made your footsteps seem even louder as a soft wind drifted through the trees. A strange noise came from behind you, and you turned, fearing Crowley had changed his mind. The field and hills behind you stood stoically, the grass waving gently. You scanned the horizon and then shrugged and turned back around. Balthazar stood before you. You gasped, jumping in surprise.  
"Balthazar! You scared me!" You looked over his face. "Why are you here?"  
"Castiel told me what happened." His French accent hid barely contained fury. "Apparently you have managed to make yourself undesirable to the Winchesters. Again."  
"It's not true."  
"What? The idiocy of the boys to think you were working with Crowley?" You relaxed, but guilt crawled into your mind. "I know you didn't." Balthazar had taken a strange affection to you, but you were still afraid of him.  
"What I do know is that you have ruined your reputation with them and you'll never be able to be trusted by them again. You are of no use to me." His voice dipped dangerously low. You shivered. The angel noticed and smirked. "But not to worry, _ma chérie,_ I have a plan." You cocked your head in confusion. "Sit." He motioned to a small rock. You sat, trembling. " The boys will be in a bar in Missouri in a week. We will meet them there. You will be drinking at the bar when they come in. Make yourself noticeable. Sit somewhere they can see that pretty face. Then, Margaret here--Margaret?"  
A slim, dark haired woman came out of a patch of trees. She smiled, (obviously with perfect pink lips) and waved at you.  
"As I was saying, Margaret will bump into your table, and you'll get very aggressive and try to stab her but luckily, Margaret is plucky and will stab you back in self defence. Dean and Sam will come over and--"  
"Wait! You're talking about.....killing me for this?" You choked out the words, tears brimming in your eyes.  
Balthazar looked confused and glanced at the woman next to him. "Why yes, I thought that was obvious."  
A sob ripped from your chest. "But I thought...you said I," you started through the sobs. "Reminded you of Castiel. I thought you cared about me."  
"Oh dear, I didn't really care for you. But I still need you. Anyway, Margaret will explain that you had been bitten by a werewolf," he continued nonchalantly as if he hadn't just said he was going to kill you and he didn't actually care a bit about whether you lived or died. Tears closed down your cheeks and you were trembling uncontrollably. _He's going to kill me!_ You realized you had been blubbering out the words 'I don't want to die," over and over.  
"Well of course you don't, but it's for a better cause." You shook your head, temples pounding.  
He continued rattling on, but your head was ringing and you were focused on one thing only. _Gabriel._ You were praying more intensely than you ever had before, tears and sweat mingling as you softly muttered for him to come. A white haze slowly appeared in your vision, growing stronger until you saw nothing but white. It faded down and you heard cars passing.  
"Gabriel?" You called tentatively into the dark. A form appeared and a light switched on. 

You had never been happier to see whiskey colored eyes.


	26. In Which You Return to an Old Friend

You sighed, relief flooding through you. You collapsed into a small chair, completely melting into the burgandy fabric. Gabriel stared at you, completely befuddled. You sighed again.  
"Gabriel." You sunk deeper into the chair, slowly coming down from your adrenaline rush.  
He glanced around the room, then looked back at you, squinting.  
"You're Y/N, right?"  
You nodded tiredly.  
"What's wrong? Are you hurt?"  
You shook your head. "I need help. I'm kinda on the run."  
"From who?"  
You snorted. "Everyone."  
Gabriel frowned again. "How about you start from the beginning?"  
"You won't believe me."  
"Try me, sweetheart."  
You sighed and patted a chair next to yours. "Sit down, this is long." He settled himself in the chair, his golden eyes looking into yours.  
"About....I don't know how many years ago I was in college, maybe twenty years ago. I worked with a psycho who turned out to be a vampire. He almost killed me but Sam and Dean and...Cas saved me. I started hunting with them and they taught me everything." You left out the angst and unreturned love. "I moved to the city and was completely unhappy, so after about ten years I came back. Oh," you added, looking down at your hands awkwardly and clearing your throat. "You and I fell in love."  
Gabriel's face revealed his shock.  
"What?"  
"I know I know it sounds crazy but basically a bunch of stuff happened and I lost my memories and everyone who had ever known me forgot me."  
"You expect me to believe that, sugar?"  
You flinched at his petname. "Yes!" You struggled to think of someone who knew about the memory incident. "Crowley knows what I did!"  
"How does Crowley come into this equation?"  
"He forced me to spy on the Winchesters. And then remember Balthazar? He made me keep an eye out for Cas, but I don't know why. And that's why I look so young, because he used his mojo to de-age me. Then the other day Sam and Dean found out I was working for Crowley and blew up. And since I got kicked out Balthazar was going to replace me but his plan involved killing me." You stopped, taking a deep breath and sparing a glance at the angel.  
His face was twisted in an amused, unbelieving way that made you flush with embarrassment.  
"Gabe," you whined, "you have to believe me. I know you think I'm lying and you have no reason to believe me, but it's all true. Read my mind! You'll see I'm not lying."  
Gabriel gave you a long, probing stare before sighing resignedly and standing.  
You panicked and leapt out of the chair, thinking he was about to kick you out. "Gabriel, please! You're my last hope. Nobody else cares about me. My family _literally_ doesn't know I exist anymore and everyone who I though I could trust turned on me. My story isn't that insane, I mean, if you told someone you were an angel who jumped out of heaven to be Loki and played tricks on people, like chasing them with Hulk, they would think you were crazy."  
You stopped again to breathe, a knot forming in your throat and tears of desperation welling. "This whole situation is insane. Crowley and Lucifer working together? Murderous angels? The 'safe' hunters hunting me? Massive memory erasure? De-aging? Why did I ever get involved in this?" A sob finally ripped out from your throat and you sank back into the chair, tucking your knees into your chest.  
The archangel's face was softening ever so slightly, and he seemed torn between kicking you out and protecting you. The light was drifting out from another room and dust particles were floating around his head, like a halo.  
"I was just gonna get a degree and get a job and marry and have kids and be normal," you babbled. "I never wanted this. I didn't want angry demons or-or angels, or heaven or hell or any of this. I just wanna go back. I wanna go home when I wasn't scared for my life and my sister was still alive. I w-want my old-d life b-back," you wailed, stuttering the words as your chest contracted. You buried your face in your knees, feeling the old chair's fabric brush against your legs.  
A hand gently brushed against your hair, just barely ghosting over the sensitive skin of your scalp. You sniffled, looking up. You met his warm eyes for a second before glancing away, studying the floor. It was carpet, beige and mottled with dark spots. He had moved into a new apartment, apparently, but you weren't sure where. Gabriel was squatted on his carpet, eye level with you, and you dragged your gaze back to his eyes.  
A golden sunset, just like you remembered, and you whimpered, the pain of Kali resurfacing all over again.  
The light was seperating into beams behind him. His vessel's soft hair waved slightly as the air in the room moved. He was still. You could tell he was searching your memories; felt him prodding through the past, painful and glorious moments included. Everything from staring sadly at the moon and blocking Dean out with earbuds to whispering into Gabriel's ear that you loved him. You closed your eyes. That was a good memory. His skin had brushed against your lips as you knelt in. He had smelled so lovely, like fire after it's been blown out and dusty hay right after it's been reaped, and dried flowers hanging upside down in the kitchen. After you had whispered those words to him in the golden fields where you and he lay, he had turned and smiled so sweetly at you, his mouth meeting yours softly, gently as he whispered them back against your lips.  
You looked away from him now, he was not the same. This was not your Gabriel that smelled of whiskey and autumn. This Gabriel was different, changed and you did not like him yet.  
He froze.  
 _He found the memory,_ you realized.  
The angel's face was confused, but relieved as well, and his hand reached out almost as if by its own volition and stroked your cheek so gently. Despite yourself you leaned into his rough hand, which was stroking like an old movement, like Gabriel had been meant to do this but forgot, like getting on a bike after years of walking. You closed your eyes, letting his calloused hand trace your cheek. His hand slowly moved away after a while and he stood, taking your arm and lifting you up with him. The archangel opened his arms and you gladly accepted the hug, burying your face in his familiar scent.  
"I missed you," you murmured.  
He chuckled, and you felt it more than heard.  
"I wish I could say I missed you."  
He pulled away and held you at arm's length, studying your face.   
"Why'd we split up?"  
You tensed, stomach lurching. You swallowed past a lump in your throat.   
"We didn't love each other, not really," you croaked.   
Gabriel's face was confused again and as he opened his mouth to ask something, you turned away.   
"So, can I stay?" You flopped in a chair, grinning mischievously at the angel staring down at you.   
He rubbed a hand over his face. "I don't know."  
You stood, placing a hand on his chest, feeling the strong muscles beneath. "Come on, just for a little while," you pleaded, gazing into his endless eyes. "Just until I can figure this out."  
In reality, you were planning to never return to the Winchesters but you didn't mention that.   
"Fine," he sighed. You placed a peck on his cheek and his eyes flew open in surprise.   
"You won't regret it," you whispered, winking and waggling your hips as you strolled out of the room. 

 

At first, it was strange. You were casual, too casual, he was stiff, unlike himself. Eventually he began to soften, and he got used to you doing things like resting your head on his shoulder. He came back one night, telling you that the Winchesters were piratically ripping apart heaven looking for you. You shuddered. He had carved angel sigils in your ribs. That night you curled in his arms and watched the moon rise. He was warm, sturdy. You couldn't help remembering how he had felt this way before, too. You didn't want a repeat of Kali. But when he looked down at you with his big warm eyes you forgot and closed your eyes.


	27. In Which You See Ash

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> READ IF YOU ARE CONFUSED:  
> Jessica was never killed by yellow eyes. Sam didn't meet her until about season 5. Balthazar and Gabriel were never killed by Castiel/Lucifer. Sam didn't succeed in throwing Lucifer into the pit, and Lucifer is working with Crowley wearing Nick. Dean was already a demon while you were away. The gods and goddesses are now coming together to figure out what to do about Lucifer.  
> ALSO:  
> We never saw what happens when one sells his soul to an angel, so this is what I assumed happens: When one sells his soul to an angel, the angel passes it on to Crowley. This will be important.  
> I hope this clears up confusion in my whacko timeline.

Things became routine once more. You placed the Winchesters deliberately out of your mind, quietly ignoring them. You forgot about hunting--or at least tried to. It had only been a few weeks and you still sometimes woke in the small bed Gabriel had gotten in a sweat, recalling a vampire trying to bite you or a werewolf foaming at the mouth. At times like this you would swallow and your gaze would fall on the misty window shining with the old light of fading stars, slowly pulsating with the rhythm of a thousand suns--or, you would think, more realistically, the fading heartbeat of a fragile old woman struggling to breathe and survive one last night before fading through to the darkness. That's what the stars there looked like. They sometimes twinkled, sometimes they didn't even show up at night. They were fragile stars; elderly, like they couldn't come up with enough strength to regularly appear. There were tens of thousands of stars but just one of them reminded you of home. After you had watched the stars excruciatingly try to sparkle you would turn over and bleakly stare at the wall until sleep took over. If you had another nightmare you would go into the kitchen and get tea. Cocoa mint. Always with a spoon of sugar and two spoons of cream. You told yourself it calmed you. Then you would sit and watch the moon. The moon was so strong, so unlike the weak stars. The moon was always there. It shone delicately but not without judgement. After that usually you were fine and would go back to sleep.  
The routine later would be you going to work and Gabriel going who knows where. You were fine. You were well adjusted. You were stable. You were _fine._ You really were. One day, you were sitting at lunch, listening to music, some rock. (Not because of Dean, not because of Dean.) A song ended and the next one began.  
_The food that I'm eating.._  
_Is suddenly tasteless._  
_I know I'm alone now..._  
_I know what it tastes like._  
You froze. You ripped out your earbuds and threw the phone on the ground, (six hundred dollars, the man informed you, studying the broken screen) but it was too late and you were back in the streets ten years ago desperately missing Dean. You were staring blankly at the ground, phone lying shattered next to you, the freak in the lunch plaza.  
You were definitely fine.  
When you went home you were crying, partly from embarrassment and partly from missing Dean. Gabriel took one look at you, (pity filled) silently handed you a blanket and the tea and sat you down on the couch with him. He wasn't the touchy-feely type and didn't talk about feelings much but luckily he let you cry on him and use him as a teddybear. You curled yourself in the corner of the couch, humiliation puddling like the tea you had spilled sitting down. You sniffled. _I wish things were like they used to be,_ you thought miserably, staring down at the swirling smoke rising from your tea. Gabriel sat down next to you.  
"What happened?"  
You shook your head.  
"I don't know. I freaked out and embarrassed myself."  
Gabriel snorted, stifling a laugh.  
You glared at him, hurt pooling in your chest.  
He put on a sober face, but you could tell he thought you were emotional and overreacting. You huffed, slamming your tea on the coffee table and throwing the blanket on Gabriel's face before storming away.  
_Asshole._  
In the room, you realized you had been describing yourself. Gabriel had let you in, believed your story, gave you a room to stay and put up with your nearly constant sobbing. You got over your pride and walked back out where Gabriel was fiddling with some books in a sloppy pile.  
"Gabriel."  
He turned, waggling his eyebrows.  
"That's me...maybe."  
You said nothing, just attacked with a hug, wrapping yourself around his warmth. Your chin settled on his shoulder as you went on tiptoe, and you whispered in his ear.  
"I'm sorry."  
"It's alright, kiddo. That's what I'm here for. I'm guessing these last few months have been...stressful to say the least."  
You nodded into his shoulder, burying your face in his soft hair. It was like touching clouds. After a few seconds you pulled away, murmuring about making dinner. Gabriel opened his mouth as if he was going to say something but then closed it. You glanced back at him. The sun coming in from the open windows shone around his head, creating a halo of loose hair. The glowing softened his vessel's face, and the faint wrinkles at his eyes made them sweeter than they should've been. You smiled and turned back around, heading for the kitchen.  
You had decided on chicken noodle soup, and as you sliced the celery, you felt two arms wrap around you in back. You smiled to yourself.  
"Hi Gabriel," you greeted the angel.  
He was looking over your work, wrinkling his nose.  
"Shush. You can't always eat candy," you teased, sliding out from under his arms to pour the celery into the pot.  
"I didn't say anything, sugar," he retorted, winking at you playfully. Your heart fluttered and you blushed, looking down at the ground.  
Things were usually like this, you cooking and working, Gabriel flirting casually. It was....normal. So incredibly normal you were worried. You made Gabriel tell you about what was happening in the hunting world and he would reluctantly tell you the Winchesters were looking for you and so was Balthazar and Crowley. After he would tell you this you would always feel scared and he would always wrap his arms around you and hold you tightly. You felt safe in his arms. He was your anchor in reality.  
It happened on a Sunday. He told you he had to leave. Gabriel was so sad looking, and when he said "sugar" his voice was so desperate you almosy cried. You didn't know what was wrong and when you asked he silenced you with a kiss, desperate, as if it was the last time. You asked to go with him, telling him whatever was wrong you would be there. He said it was too dangerous. You agreed it might be dangerous, (whatever "it" was,) but you wanted to go with him. He refused, disappearing.  
You stood in the sunny room. Alone. You clenched your jaw. You had to follow him. He was acting too strangely and you were scared. Your trembling hands formed the symbols to summon an angel and some obscure messanger appeared, looking terrified. You lifted yourself to your full height, threatening the poor angel with everything in heaven and hell, demanding he tell you where Gabriel is.  
"You find him and come back to tell me or I'll fry you in holy oil," you hissed, breaking the line of holy oil to let him out.  
He nodded and fled. A few seconds later, he returned, shaking his head.  
"Where is it?" You demanded, clenching your spell book.  
"It's far," he answered, sincere brown eyes meeting yours.  
"Take me, then!"  
He opened his mouth to protest and you raised the flask of holy oil threateningly. A hand was held out and you warily took it, light flashing in your eyes.  
Suddenly you were in the desert, heart pounding. Rain poured down. The angel was gone and you smirked to yourself.  
_Guess I'm pretty scary,_ you thought, self-satisfied.  
Stepping near the door, you frowned.  
_Why would Gabriel be at the Elysian fields?_ You thought, confused. You briefly wondered if the angel had tricked you. Shrugging, you pulled open the door and stepped into the lobby. Happy guests sat around modern tables, sipping cocktails and laughing.  
_What the hell?_  
"Can I help you?" A smooth voice broke into your thoughts. You turned, shivering as a blast from the air conditioning hit your soaked clothes.  
"Hi...can I get a room?"  
"No problem. Shelter from the storm, I'm guessing?"  
"Something like that," you murmured.  
He handed you your keys, smiling.  
"Enjoy your stay."  
"Could you do me a favor?"  
"I'll do my best. What can I do for you?"  
You leaned in. "I need you to tell me what room-"  
"I'm sorry, we give out no information about any of our guests."  
"But-"  
"No exceptions," he told you firmly.  
You sighed, walking away. A prick at your neck startled you, and when you touched your hand to your neck, blood splotched on it. You frowned, looking around. No one even glanced at you and you figure you might've hurt yourself earlier. You studied the number on the key and started to make your way to your room. Your stomach growled and a whiff of pie wafted past your nose and you followed it to a buffet serving all kinds of pie. You frowned. This was weird. Despite your suspicions, you were starving and served yourself a piece. You went to sit in a booth, looking around the room. Couples, men, women----  
You dropped your fork. The clatter of metal on the ceramic plate seemed to echo so loudly even though the room bustled with noise.

Kali. 

Why was she here? Fiddling with a glass, elegantly tracing the edge, as graceful as when she stole Gabriel from you. Her slim neck craned around the room. She was waiting for someone. You picked up your fork, not noticing the pointed metal digging into your skin. Gabriel was here. A tall man walked past her, then another, shorter. You froze again. He was wearing a green jacket. He had bowed legs and blond hair. He was talking to her. You turned your head away from him, sparing a few glances.  
_Goddamnit, Dean,_ you thought grumpily. Why were they chasing Gabriel? Kali clearly shut him down and he shrugged, leaving to eat his pie. Your own pie was suddenly tasteless, and the bite of sugary cherries in your mouth tasted bitter. You stood, abandoning your food and marching to your room, not looking back at Sam or Dean or Kali. You sat, pulse racing.  
_What do I do?_

Later, you heard voices outside your door. Dean's voice, chuckling, Sam, scolding, asking if Dean was twelve. A door opened next to your room. You groaned silently.  
_Their room would be next to mine._  
Shortly after your discovery, you heard a crash. Sam and Dean's door flew open, and you peeked out of yours. They had a wedding ring and were saying that the couple was gone. They went to the front desk, and you snuck behind them. The check-in clerk said the couple had checked out, but you didn't believe that and neither did Dean, judging from his face. You decided to follow Dean as the brothers searched the hotel. In case you hadn't known before, this hotel was weird. You even saw an elephant that turned into a man after you glanced twice at him. Eventually, the brothers met up again. Somehow, they never noticed you. Sam tried to open the doors, but they were locked.   
Dean groaned. "So what, we were lead here?"  
Sam nodded grimly. "Like rats in a maze."  
Dean and Sam strode to the kitchen. You hid behind a door, watching their movements silently. Dean poked at eyeball stew, Sam found a freezer full of people. You clenched the door. A man snuck behind Dean, grabbing him in a chokehold. You could barely keep from shrieking. The people in the freezers screamed as their only hopes were dragged away. You darted behind them, following them into a room, still staying out of sight.   
You shivered.   
"Ladies and gentlemen, dinner is served."  
Dean and Sam's face slowly transformed into looks of pure horror.   
Mercury, as the others had addressed him, droned on. "There are many gods here today..." You were confused, glancing at the faces of the men and women at the table.   
_Where is Gabe?_  
Odin and an obscure Chinese god were speaking. Well, screaming really. You saw Dean and Sam attempt to leave, but Mali's eyes flashed and a chandelier crashed in front of them. You winced.   
"Stay." Her voice was icy, crystal clear. You shrunk back into your hiding place. "We must fight. The archangels understand only violence."   
The other gods roared their opinions. You had no idea whether they agreed or not. The door flew open, adding to the chaos. You turn, relief flooding through you.   
"Gabriel," you breathed.   
The angel strolled into the ballroom casually, despite all the talk of killing angels. "Can't we all just get along?"   
That was something you had always admired--his calmness and composure.   
Dean was furious. "Gabri--"   
Gabriel flung out a hand, choking Dean. You winced, desperately wanting to go to him. The gods seemed to think Gabriel was Loki, which made you chuckle. While you watched, Gabriel snapped his fingers, sending the brothers and himself somewhere else. You waited. 

The gods screamed like uncivilized children. You waited. 

Everyone left from the room. Your legs were cramping from crouching in the cabinet for so long. You let yourself out cautiously, unfolding your legs and sneaking through the halls. One room stood out. You knew it was Kali's. You heard voices, faintly.   
Gabriel's rough voice was almost desperate.   
"Still love me?"   
Your chest tightened painfully. They say history repeats itself, but you didn't think it would be so soon. You gripped your own hands tightly, frantically.   
_It's fine, he still loves me, it's fine._   
"No."   
Relief loosened you, until you heard the sounds of kissing. Kali moaned, and you moved away from the door silently, holding a hand to your mouth. They were on another planet, and you were orbiting on the moon.   
_It's fine. It's fine._   
You returned to your cabinent, tucking yourself into the space and waiting. Your vision darkened as you waited.   
When you came to, you heard Kali speaking, seething with rage.   
You yawned. _I must've dozed off._   
You listened closely. "The trickster has tricked us," spat Kali.   
Your heart sank. She spoke more.   
"You have something I want. An archangel's blade, from the archangel Gabriel." You peered through a crack. She was speaking softly now, and you couldn't hear much.   
"I'm sorry." And with that, Kali plunged the blade into Gabriel's chest. He screamed, light pouring from his eyes. You closed your eyes.   
_This isn't happening._   
When you looked through the crack, he was still slumped in the chair. A scream tore itself from your throat and you burst out, shoving Kali to the ground, taking Gabriel's face desperately into your hands. You could see Dean staring at you, but you couldn't care. Kali sighed irritatedly, and Sam helped you to a chair, his features somewhere between confusion, rage and pity. They were making a deal of some sort, and eventually Dean made you stand up and dragged you outside. You were numb. You sat on the street curb while Dean evacuated. You looked through the parking lot and your eyes landed on a familiar face, very much alive. Dean got in the car with that familiar face and began to talk. You were grinning, and Dean told you to shut your piehole and get back inside.   
"Fuck off, Dean." 

"Hate to break it to you sister, but you've been tricked."  
You couldn't help but smile at the look on Kali's face, though deep inside you knew Gabriel loved her more. You were basking in the glory of her shock when you heard screams. You spun around, staring at the door. The lights flickered.  
"It's him," said Sam.   
The door slammed open. 

Who was that? 

A man, dirty blond hair, skin peeling and breaking. A sword in his hand, an angel blade. Lucifer, you realized.  
Baldur sneered at him. "You think you own the planet. What gives you the right?"  
Lucifer smirked dangerously before plunging his arm deep into his chest. You could hear the entrails squishing, and blood oozed out of his back as Lucifer's hand came out the other side. You watched in fascinated horror. Kali screamed, her arms lighting aflame and chargjng at the devil. He sent a swift punch and she went flying across the room.  
Gabriel alpeared, handing Dean something. Lucifer was about to finish Kali when Gabriel sent him flying into a wall.  
"Lucy, I'm home. Not this time." He helped Kali off the floor gently, holding her a little too long. "Guys, get her out of here."  
You tried not to care that he didn't notice you.  
"Y/N! Come on!" Shouted Dean, helping Kali out. Only then did Gabriel realized you existed, but he didn't say anything as you reluctantly joined the brothers.  
They were heading out the front doors.  
"Dean, no! I can't leave him," you pleaded.  
"Oh, yes you can."  
He pushed you into the Impala, and you sent a hook into his jaw, struggling out the door. He grabbed your foot, but you kicked his balls with your other foot, and he groaned in pain. Sam came over, holding your arms back, and you headbutted his chin, kicked his chest with you foot, and sent a powerful punch into his nose once he released your arms. You were back into the hotel before he even knew what hit him.  
You snuck around the dead bodies to see the ballroom, watching from around the corner. Lucifer and Gabriel were circling each other.  
"So you're willing to die for a pile of cockroaches. Why?" Hissed Lucifer.  
"Because Dad was right. They are better than us."  
"They are broken, flawed abortions!"  
Gabriel shook his head. "Damn right they're flawed. But a lot of them try. To do better, to forgive." They faced you and you had to shrink back more. "But I'm in the game now, and I'm not on your side's, or Michael's. I'm on their's."  
You smiled at his words.  
 _Gabriel will win. He has to._  
"Brother, don't make me do this."  
"No one makes us do anything."  
"I know what you think you're doing the right thing, Gabriel, but I know where your heart truly lies."  
You could see the speaking Gabriel was an illusion, and you saw the real Gabriel lunging behind Lucifer, about to stab. Your heart raced, and you clenched the door frame.  
Gabriel lunged forward and Lucifer grabbed his arm, twisting the blade out and stabbing it deep through Gabriel's heart. You screamed, pure anguish ripping through you. This time it was real. There were no tricks. The fake Gabriel flickered and faded, and Gabriel gasped, clutching onto Lucifer's arm.  
"Amatuer hocus locus. Don't forget, you learned all your tricks from me, little brother."  
Lucifer stabbed the sword deeper a d all the light rushed out of Gabriel's face. Lucifer let his brother slump on the floor and you saw a moment,a flash of pain before he smirked. You were sobbing and you ran into the room, clutching at Gabriel's limp body. You rocked him back and forth, sick with grief.  
"You know he never loved you. Pathetic human."  
"He did, he did, he did," you blubbered.  
Lucifer squatted next to you. "You're next."  
"Go away!" You screamed, clawing at his face.  
"Your soul is mine," he hissed.  
"No, it's not! I haven't sold my soul," you cried.  
"That's right, Balthazar erased those memories. You sold your soul to him to be younger. I got your soul. In three months, you're mine, slut."  
Lucifer chuckled and stood, leaving you alone with Gabriel.  
You clutched Gabriel's body, sobbing, screaming. His head rested on the floor even when you lifted his body to lay in your lap. Your pants were smudging with ash, but you didn't care. You stroked the hair out of his face, your tears falling and puddling on his warm features, now so cold, so....dead. You smoothed his hair back, tears wetting the brown mass. You screamed, echoing through the now empty hotel. You were so alone. You buried your face in his white shirt, feeling nothing. Your limbs were numb chunks of flesh cradling your sweet darling. You breathed in his scent, knowing that would soon fade. Blood was pooling in his shirt, staining your clothes, staining face shoved in his chest. He was fine. He was just asleep. You sobbed. He couldn't hold you back. He was always the one who held you, said it was fine. You stroked his hair again, anguished, painful sobs ripping from your throat.  
"It's okay, Gabriel, I love you. You're fine, you're fine, you're fine," you repeated, hysteria seeping into your words and your thoughts.  
You don't know how long you stayed there, crying over his body. At some point, Sam and Dean cane back to get you and pried you away from the ashen imprints of his wings. The only thing left of your piece of heaven was charcoal in the deserts..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I was writing this Gods and Monsters by Lana Del Rey came on. Too perfect.


	28. In Which You Clean Old Ash

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Filler chapter. Things should soon return more to canon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooollllyy shhiiiiittt guys I thought I updated this. I wrote this a week afterwards and I can't believe this didn't post.

You cradled yourself in the car, hating the feelings of yourself, hating the feelings of the brothers. They were sending glances back towards you of pity, regret, anger. Sam kept looking as if he wanted to say something but the words seemed to be frozen in his throat. So the car was silent and you buried your head in your knees. You kept your focus on your laborious breathing, shuddering breaths over and into your lungs, but they never seemed to quite get to your lungs; the shards of your heart were in the way. You sobbed again, the first one in a few minutes. Kali was, for some reason, still in the car, and the disdainful looks she threw your way filled you with shame and hatred. She had clutched Gabriel from you, screamed his name, left you to sob on your own. She made you feel like you didn't ever get Gabriel's full love. Didn't matter Kali had told him she didn't love him or that she was already calling another man on the phone, already flirting as if she never cared about the angel.  
You cared. You cared about Gabriel, about the kind angel who believed you.  
"Let me out." A cold voice sliced through the comfortable silence, and Dean glanced in the rearview mirror at Kali.  
"Right now? We're in the middle of nowhere, sister."  
Kali sent a disdainful glance his way. "I am aware. I have a friend coming."  
Dean shrugged and pulled Baby over. You leaned your head against the window as the sleek red woman glided out of the car. Dean said a few words to her, inaudible to you over the Impala's warm hum against your ear. The car started again and coasted out onto the road, the only fault in the smooth sounds the gravel crunching underneath.  
You sniffled again, and you could see Sam's hand clenching. You didn't know if he was angry or pitying you. Probably both. The car silently glided over the pavement, out of the desert. Just now, you could see a highway with the glimmering of cars headlights. Only a few were out this time of night in a place like this, but it was enough to break the dark mist. Other than the cars, black night thickly coated every other brush and sandy mountain, and it blurred together in the faint moonlight. You were never good at drifting off, you knew that. You started to fall asleep, lulled by the Impala's gentle movements, but you would jerk awake or start to choke on your own spit as your head dropped backwards. Tonight, though, whether from the tragedy or pure exhaustion, you dozed off without a problem. Your vision was calm and hazy. The boys were murmuring and you thought you could see Gabriel beside you, stroking your hair. 

A soft glow underneath your eyes and a faint melody nudged you into awareness. You slowly blinked the haze from your eyes and sat up, your limbs stiff and aching. You were still in the Impala, but the scenery outside the windows was familiar, and you realized you were approaching the bunker. Empty coffee cups were strewn across the floor--probably five of six with the leftovers liquid still seeping through the paper. Sam was slumped over the chair, mouth hanging open and face pressed into the headrest. Dean loosely gripped the wheel, softly singing along with the music that faintly streamed from the speakers. You didn't know exactly the song, but then again, Dean's trashy rock all sounded the same to you. A yawn stretched your jaws and you turned your head from side to side in an attempt to loosen the bones. A crack released all the pressure and you couldn't help but moan in satisfaction. Dean turned, glancing at you and smirking.  
"Thought Cas was eating you out for a little bit there," he teased, a shit-eating grin plastered on his cheeks.  
You blushed and looked down. "Shut up," you muttered.  
Dean just waggled his eyebrows in a way that painfully reminded you of Gabriel and turned back to the road. You sighed again, but even you could hear the despair in this one. Dean's gaze met yours in the rearview mirror, lips tight and brow furrowed in concern. You curled in a fetal position again, eyes level with the interior of the Impala, black, black like the ash that was still smudged on your pants. You traced your knee, the way the ash had curled in the folds of fabric. Gabriel had been yours--the one that had finally loved you, told you that you were his. He had told you one time that he loved being on earth with you. He said that he was fine with his family fighting if he had you. Why did he have to try to fix it? You didn't care if the world was collapsing--life was only worth living if someone loved you but now you were alone again. You glanced at Sam and Dean. Not completely alone, but they would never love you with the possessive passion of the angel you called yours.  
A snicker from the front seat roused you from your thoughts, and you looked up to see Dean gingerly placing straws in Sam's ear. Sam's eyes flew open as Dean placed the sixth in, and his face transformed into horror as he realized the situation. You watched Dean cackle and Sam send a royal bitch face towards Dean.  
"Real mature, Dean."  
"No sense of humor."  
"Sticking straws in my ear isn't exactly high class entertainment."  
"Bitch."  
"Jerk."  
Dean mussed Sam's hair affectionately despite the disgust on Sam's face and protests that he wasn't twelve. The early sun shone in the windows, giving the whole scene a dreamlike glow. You sat back, enjoying the brother's antics. A tug in your heart reminded you that your own sibling, your dear sister who seemed so much like Sam, was dead, twice now. Your content smile faded, the joy melting away. You heard a flapping and beside you appeared Castiel. His hair was windblown, and smiling, you smoothed it down. Castiel met eyes with you and gently took your wrist in his hand. You cocked your head in questioning as his piercing eyes studied your face.  
"Y/N, I am truly sorry for your loss. I know you cared about Gabriel."  
"Cas, he was your brother. You knew him for a lot longer." The words out of your mouth were raspy, as if you hadn't spoken in years. "I should be comforting you." You remembered losing your sister and having to comfort the "poor, traumatized" bargirl who bad witnessed her rather brutal death. You didn't want to do the same for Cas.  
"We were not close. He left us." Cas's words were clipped, and you sensed he was still bitter.  
"Thanks for saying good morning Y/N," teased Sam, looking pointedly at you.  
"Good morning Samuel," you responded with feigned offense.  
"Hello Dean, Sam." Castiel seemed to have spent a few more seconds watching Dean. Your heart ached for him. You knew he loved Dean, everyone knew, even Balthazar, except Dean. Cas quickly turned back to you. You were smiling sadly, watching his deep eyes. He knew so much more than he let on, and felt so much deeper than anyone knew. Cas rambled on about some things to the boys and you returned to studying the shiny black of the Impala until Dean finally announced, with the pride of a new mother, "We're home!"  
The relief that flooded the car was _tangible,_ and Sam and Dean were so relaxed now. They both continued into the bunker, while you lingered behind with Castiel.  
You watched the boys walk into the bunker, words caught in your throat. _How do I say this?_  
Cas stood, silently watching you, seeming to understand your internal battle. "Cas," you finally said, "I need help. I'm in trouble."  
"In what way?"  
You bit your lip and glanced at the bunker, unsure of whether this was a safe place to talk or not. Castiel grabbed your arm and whisked you away to some forest, dark, isolated. "Balthazar. Carve angel sigils in my ribs. He's coming for me. And Lucifer. I need my soul back. Make Balthazar give me my soul back."  
You had seen any number of emotions on Cas, but never this level of shock. "Balthazar?"  
"I kinda accidently started spying for him and Crowley and sold my soul."  
Cas seemed no more enlightened.  
"I know you're gonna find this hard to believe, but we knew each other for a long time. Years. You and Dean and Sam rescued me from a vampire when I was nineteen. You took me in, trained me. We were friends for a long time. I got injured and lost my memories, but when you tried to restore my memories, some angel shit happened and you accidently erased me from anyone else's memories. So....you had no idea who I was and I came back now after a while. Apparently I sold my soul to Balthazar to be young again, and I agreed to watch you. Crowley forced me to give him information too. Basically I came back and everyone has been using me for his own means. Also after I ran away from Dean and Sam Balthazar said he was going to replace me," you stopped, feeling the hurt and betrayal again. Never trust again, you vowed. "Um, kill me and use a younger woman."  
Tears pricked at your eyes and you watched Cas to make sure he wasn't angry. His face revealed nothing. The forest was silent.  
"You do realized it will be painful."  
"What?"  
"The carving into your ribs."  
You smiled faintly with relief. "I know, but it's better than Balthazar skinning me alive."  
"I am concerned, however. You were told by Lucifer the amount of time you have left, is that true?"  
The lump in your throat thickened. "Three months." A chill ran over you. Three months until you died. Three months until the torture.  
Cas began to pace. "Once an angel has absorbed part of the power and given it to Crowley, it cannot be returned unless someone else sells his soul."  
You leapt up. "No! Don't tell Sam or Dean. Please. It's not their problem. I don't want them to get hurt. Don't tell them about Balthazar or any of this. They can't know." You gripped his sleeve. "Please."  
Castiel stood, staring down at you pensively. You were silently pleading with your eyes. "Please," you whispered.  
The spell seemed to break over him as his shoulders slumped in resignation. "I will not tell them." He turned away. "After you die, I will explain. Dean will be angry with me. He cares for you."  
You were startled by his bluntness. "Cas, he won't be angry with you. He doesn't care that much."  
Cas turned back to you abruptly, eyes flashing. "You were not here while you ran away. He nearly ripped apart heaven to find you, but when no one knew, he was devastated. He said you were familiar and he cared for you more deeply than anyone else."  
"B-but Cas, as a friend. He probably was remembering our friendship subconciously. Dean never loved me." You took a step closer. "I know you love him. I'm sorry." The angel bowed his head, and you could see the weariness in his face. "How does the process of the sigils work?"  
Cas touched your forehead and without warning, a burning pain ripped through you. Before you could even scream it subsided, leaving you clinging to Cas and gasping.  
"Warnings are for pussies, I guess?"  
The scenery around you changed back to the bunker, where Cas quickly strode inside. You slowly followed, wobbling slightly. The boys were continuing unfinished research; the tables were scattered with books, which upon closer examination, were all lore and bibles on pages of Lucifer. Cas didn't make eye contact with you, sitting at the other end of the room. Dean and Sam were both awkwardly avoiding you, torn between apologies and comfort and scolding. You returned to your room, empty, clean, white. Three months, you said in your mind, studying your face in the mirror. The room was too white, only as white as you imagined the floors after they cleaned up his ash.


	29. In Which You Plan Your Own Funeral

Things were different after that. You had to be careful. Cas, when he wanted to see you, had to find the boys and then awkwardly todask where you were. One day you were in the same room but he couldn't even tell. Dean was so confused, frowning and glancing between Cas and you before shaking his head and muttering about "stupid angels". You went about life a little more carefully, a little more deliberately. You would brush against the boys, touch them, talk to them as much as you could, drinking in the image of them as much as you could. You spent hours with Cas, and he didn't seem to mind. At least, he didn't show it if he minded.  
_I guess he knows I want to get as much of him as I can before it,_ you figured. Today you sat in your room, late afternoon sun in your hair, glowing through his eyes. Cas sat next to you on your bare bed--no sheets, it was laundry day. He was hunched over and his handsvl clenched together, tightly entangled fingers resting on his lap. The soft sun made his hair glow like the sun behind him.

He spoke. "I can only imagine what you are going through, Y/N, but you need to live. Don't just sit here and watch the boys and I. Make the most of your time."  
You nodded; he had answered your previous statement. (I'm so scared, Cas. I don't wanna die, you had whispered.)  
He left shortly after, leaving you with the sinking sun and two boys who undoubtly would love to go somewhere. So you stood, boldly walked out and bumped into Dean playfully, grinning flirtatiously.  
"That bar you like here, what is it, the...." you struggled to remember the name of the bar near the bunker Dean went to. "Oh! The Trio Taphouse." You smiled proudly. "It opens in a few minutes, doesn't it? What do you say we go get a few drinks?"

Dean's shock was visible all over his face. "What have you done with Y/N?"  
Your heart sank. _He thinks I'm such a prude I can't even go to a bar without him being weirded out._ You sighed.  
"Nothing, I just want to have fun for once." You glanced down at yourself, cringing at the faded jeans. "Let me just change."  
In your still bare room, you rummaged through your clothes until you pulled a dress, red, tiny, probably a negative three in sizes.  
_Oh well._ You shrugged, shed your current clothes, and zipped the tiny red dress on.  
After you were done dressing, you strode into tbe room with Dean, heart pounding in your chest. You thought you looked good, but you weren't sure.  
He smirked and you found a smile playing at your lips.

"Come on," you said, grabbing his hand and dragging him to the Impala. "Drive," you ordered, handing him his keys. 

"Yes ma'am!" Dean gave you a fake salute and you couldn't help but giggle.  
He chuckled and placed the keys in the ignition. Cruising down the road with just you and Dean was heaven. The windows were down and wind swept through the car, whipping your hair around your face furiously. His music blared from the speakers, and for once, you listened. Soon, you found yourself humming along as you watched the moon through the clouds.  
Your foot tapped the floor and Dean seemed to find it amusing you liked his rock. You blushed as you noticed him watching you. You tilted your face towards the moon, letting the light soak in.  
Dean pulled into the bar far too soon, and you sauntered in, congratulating yourself silently as you noticed his eyes directed at the tight dress's rear. You gave it an extra swing for good measure as you entered the dim bar. You positioned yourself on a stool and ordered some strange drink of the day they had. Your eyes raked over the crowd, seeing if anyone attractive was there.  
You saw a man enter, and your breath caught in your throat. He radiated confidence, a smirk on his perfect lips, muscular arms bulging through the sleeves of his shirt, green eyes sparkling--oh. It was Dean.  
He made eye contact with you and you quickly turned and downed a large sip of your drink.  
_No, Dean, I was not just staring at you._ Oh well. 

He was walking over to a girl near the pool tables anyway. 

_Damnit._

He was flirting and she was already blushing.  
_Not today,_ you determined, setting your drink down firmly and sliding off the leather stool.  
You made your way to Dean and dragged a finger down his neck. He turned, smirking, not seeming to know who was touching him.  
You pulled him into a kiss, smiling against his lips at the shocked face of the girl he had been flirting with before.  
"Guess who," you whispered when you pulled away from him for air. He seemed to be cringing and the high just had just felt sunk. Everything felt wrong.  
"Dean, what's wrong?" You asked, voice croaking.  
He glanced at the girl, whose mouth hung open in outrage. "Not here."  
He led you into the parking lot. You knew you should leave, find another guy, but you were numb.  
"Kinda pulled a Leia on me there."  
"Are you Han or Luke?" You asked cautiously, not wanting to hear the answer.  
He rubbed a hand over his face. "Y/N, you're like my sister. Don't do this."  
Rage filled you and your hand struck his face, hard.  
"Fuck you!" you shouted, suddenly hating the self-righteous, pouty look on his face.  
He narrowed his eyes. "You're being a real bitch about this," Dean snarled, scrubbing his hand on the red mark on his face.  
You glared back.  
"Oh, grow up," he scoffed, turning back towards the bar and starting to walk away.  
You watched him go back into the bar, shaking his head. You stood alone for a while. The anger faded, and you knew it hadn't helped. The stars still flickered, the pavement still stood, and Dean still didn't respect you.  
_I don't need this. I'm going to die. I don't have time to waste on jerks like Dean._  
You scanned the parking lot.  
_Baby._ A smirk grew on your face and you went back into the bar.  
Dean was by a girl and you "brushed" by him, sending him a scowl, snitching the keys from his pocket. Back out you jogged and into the leather seats of the Impala you sunk. Never had you driven her, and you felt a small surge of exhilaration turning the keys and feeling her come alive. You carefully navigated out of the parking lot and back to the bunker, laughing as the wind flooded in.  
You stopped for a moment, to look at the stars. It seemed the last time you had seen these you had been alone, rejected, and although you had again been rejected, you were fine. Cas was inside, doing what you assumed was him trying to sleep.  
You shook his arm, kneeling by him. He sleepily blinked.

"Cas," you whispered, glancing around to make sure Sam wasn't there. "I need help."  
"You know I will help you in any way possible." His voice was gravelly with sleep.  
You gestured for him to move in closer with your finger. "Kill Balthazar," you hissed.  
Cas jerked back, brow furrowed. "Why?"  
"He said he's coming to kill me, and he never goes back on what he says."  
"Y/N, you are going to die anyway," he said softly.  
You huffed, head dropping. "I know Cas," you answered, voice thin and cracking. "But I want to die with dignity. I don't want him to do this to anyone else. You know he's betrayed you before. You were going to kill him a long time ago, but you didn't. Castiel, Balthazar is not a good angel." You gripped his arm, staring directly into his eyes. "Do this for me. Please. It's my dying wish, I guess." You forced a laugh.  
Cas had pity in his eyes.  
"Cas, remember how you told me he betrayed you to Crowley, led the boys there and you were just about to kill him but you never did? Just think of it as a continutaion." You couldn't believe what you were saying, but you were so filled with rage, you didn't care.  
He was silent.  
After minutes of torturous silence, he spoke.  
"Alright."  
"Thank you." You brushed your hand over his cheek briefly before standing.  
"Come talk to me tomorrow," Cas said wearily. "We must discuss how we will go about this."  
You gave him a thumbs up far too energetic for such a conversation and walked back to Baby. You sat in her seats.  
_I need to kill Lucifer._ The thought surprised you at first, but it started to make more sense. Sam had told you of their plans that had never happened. This time, you knew Cas could pull him out of hell immediately. Last time, they hadn't known that. You padded back into the bunker and into Sam's room. He was a sleeping mound, and you gently poked him.  
He jerked awake and you bent over him.  
"Sam."  
"Y/N?"  
"Yeah. Listen, I need something." You rested your elbows on the bed.  
"Sure, what?"  
You looked down at the bed before continuing. "I need to kill Lucifer."  
"What? Y/N, do you have any idea how hard that would be?"  
"Yes, but you almost did it before."  
"Keywords: almost."  
"It's really important. Sam, I would help. You were going to do it before anyway."  
"Even if I wanted to do it, Dean just stopped being a demon. He would never be fine with this."  
You couldn't take it. _I just want to stop him._ "Sam, please. I know exactly how we would do it. His vessel is dying, you would take him in, throw him back in the pit and Cas would pull you out." _And I can die happy._

He ducked his head and laughed.  
"If it were that easy everyone would kill Lucifer."  
"That was the heavily condensed version, I know. But please consider it. Please." You gripped his hand and looked into his hazel eyes. "Please."  
Sam nodded and you slipped out of his room.

In your own room, bare as an unknown soldier's grave, you took out a notebook, crisp and fresh.   
_Death with Dignity,_ you thought, taking off the lid of the pen with your teeth and sketching out how you wanted the funeral to be set up. You took down notes--you needed to be cremated, your gravestone would be a cross, no viewings before the cremation. You wanted your ashes to be buried in a church graveyard, because churches made you feel safe.   
After a little while, you sat back. Your funeral was planned. You opened your top drawer and placed it beside the silver gun, closed the drawer, and lay down on the bed.   
_When I die, I take them all down with me._


	30. In Which Secrets are Revealed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok guys, so I feel like I've really screwed up the plot. It's gone so much more off canon than I meant. Should I stop the story or is it fine? Please, I need feedback. Comments mean a lot. ALSO: I will be updating more often now because of more time during summer.

You were woken up by Dean's shouting, which at first you didn't understand until you remembered you had taken the Impala home. You flinched.  
_Oops._  
The moon was bright outside your windows, streaming through the dark room and the shadows swirling in it. You swung your legs over the bed, squinting at the lights below your door. You shuffled to it, opening the door carefully. Dean's voice was louder, and you could make out words--immature, bitch, overreaction, unbelieveable--that made you wince.  
"Hey Dean," you called, leaning around the corner. The bright lights, different from the natural shine of the moon, fogged your vision. Dean turned to you, a snarl on his lip.  
"I cannot believe you. You act like a jealous schoolgirl when I'm doing what I do every night, and then steal Baby--" he stepped closer to you, " _My_ Baby. I--" he stopped. Dean turned away, running a hand over his mouth and shaking his head. Sam stood slightly behind him, his expression unreadable.  
You stepped towards him and placed a hand on his arm, inwardly cringing at your previous behavior.  
"I'm so sorry Dean, I just wanted a second chance." _Oops._  
He turned, brow creased in confusion. "Second chance?"  
You removed your hand quickly. "Oh, I mean, just, other guys?"  
Silence filled the room.  
You fiddled with a string on your shirt. Sam slipped out of the room. Dean sighed. You could see the anger melt off his face.  
"Don't you get it?" I just...I never thought of you like that."  
"No, I get it," you answered, looking into his eyes. "You don't find me attractive. And you think I'm needy and, and," you threw your arms up. "I don't know. Childish." You pivoted on your heel so you weren't facing him. Tears were starting to prick your eyes. "Not the first time," you mumbled.  
He was shaking his head.  
"Y/N, no."  
You turned back. "What?"  
"You're not unattractive or clingy. I don't know how to say it. You know I'm not one for touchy-feely crap, but even though we only met you a little while ago, it feels like we've known you for years. If it didn't feel like you were my best friend, or my sister, you'd probably be a girl I bought drinks for."  
You were frozen in place. _Is the memory block Cas put up degrading?_  
You couldn't seem to bring your eyes up to his. "What does this mean?"  
Dean put a hand on your shoulder and you felt a chill run through you.  
"I get where you're coming from."  
You almost snorted.  
_Obviously. You don't know half the things about me._ "You're probably confused. If I were your age and hadn't been raised a hunter with a one track mind, I would be too, but you gotta make your own way. Don't rely on people like me-- especially not like _me_ to lead you through life. Shit happens, and you have to work through, mostly by yourself."  
You were completely taken aback by Dean's sudden change in mood and his...well...explanation. Dean seemed to be uncomfortable, and you nodded hesitantly.  
"I'm sorry about last night," you mumbled, voice hoarse.  
Dean sighed again. You looked around the room, the table. You remembered the first time you had been here. The boys could barely even get you to come inside because of how menacing the outside was. Now, this once threatening building was your home and you loved it. There had been old equipment and dusty shelves everywhere, but you had spent hours cleaning and it almost looked like a real house.  
_I guess this is why Dean likes it here. It's the home John never gave him._  
The sound of fluttering wings broke the silence. You turned towards where Cas stood, heaving as he took in air. Blood covered his hands and he held an angel blade.  
"You okay there, Cas?" Dean asked, striding towards him, concern in his voice. He put a hand on the angel's shoulder, looking Cas in the eye. "What happened?"  
"Balthazar." The name was a whispered breath, barely audible, yet to you, louder than a scream.  
"That dickhead we had to deal with a while back? The one that kid sold his soul to?" Dean asked, scoffing. You flinched.  
"Yes. Other....things have happened with him," Cas glanced at you for a split second, "and I was forced to kill him."  
"Specify 'things', Cas. You don't just kill your brother."  
The angel sent a glare sharp enough to shatter glass towards Dean and started to walk away. "You couldn't understand."  
You slipped out of the main room into your own, heart pounding.  
_So this is it. Balthazar is dead, which means my soul is never coming back._ You thought you were fine, but the realization that you were, in less than three months, going to die, came crashing down in full force, leaving you shaking.  
_Damn it._ You stood, pacing. The silver gun was still there. _If I commit suicide, will I still go to hell? Could I, I don't know, go to confession and commit suicide and go to heaven?_  
You sank onto the bed.  
_What the hell am I supposed to do? There's no manual on how to die gracefully._  
It wasn't even that you could ask Dean. He would....what would he do? You sat up.  
_I could ask Dean. He's gone to hell. Besides, what's the worst that could happen?_

The worst was worse than you thought.  
"You sold your soul?!"  
"Y/N, why the hell would you do that?" Sam's eyes were dark and mournful.  
"It's complicated," you whispered. "I just need help."  
"Well, you better have a damn good explanation." Dean sat at the table, folding his arms. You weren't sure if he was mad, hurt, or sad.  
"I can't tell you."  
"Oh right, I forgot!" Dean stood. "You keep secrets from us, like _selling your fucking soul!_ I'm sure this secret isn't important at all!"  
You sank into your chair. "I'm sorry. I need help." Cas was standing in the corner, observing the scene with a stony silence. You were sure he was upset in his angelic way of feeling, but he didn't seem to be showing it through his starlit eyes.  
Dean sat again, almost collapsing, like a puppet suddenly dropped. All the energy and anger seemed to be gone, and he rubbed his face with weary hands.  
"I don't know what to say, Y/N. You can't really prepare for something like this. There's no way to escape it. Shouldn't really be asking me. The times I've gone to hell I didn't handle it well."  
You nodded, feeling dry and empty suddenly, unnervingly like an empty corn husk dumped into the world to pretend to be a human.  
The older brother left the room, scraping the chair on the floor as he bumped it leaving. Sam was silent, and all he did was look into your eyes with pity.  
After a few more moments he left as well, leaving you and Castiel---you scanned the room. No angel.  
_Not even he wants to spend time with me,_  
you thought, slumping in the chair. _This shouldn't be what life is like._  
The room was getting too hot, so you stumbled back to your own room and flopped on your bed. _Might as well start today over._  
You closed your eyes, mulling over the earlier events.  
_I guess I could handle dying, but I never wanted to disappoint the brothers or Cas. What have I even done for good in my life?_  
And such were the thoughts as you drifted off on that warm afternoon.


	31. In Which the Moon Falls out of the Sky

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will be going on vacation in about two weeks for two weeks and I won't have wifi. So I'll put up another chapter before I leave but there will be a gap. Not that I really update as often as I used to though anyway...Also probably only one or two more chapters left!

Was this what terminal cancer patients felt like? Knowing the date of death was approaching and that they were eating their own time? How do they live--no, wait. How does anyone live knowing he will die? Everyone dies, even children know that, but how does anyone live knowing they were born for the sole purpose of dying?  
You shuddered, suddenly cold. You couldn't seem to fully grasp the idea of ceasing to exist, of your body-- _goddamn it,_ this was _your_ body and you weren't just giving it up! A tear of desperation fell, leaving droplets on the white sheets stretched below you. You sat in your room, waiting for Sam and Dean to return from a food run. You wondered if they would miss you after you were....gone.  
_I don't wanna die._  
You looked around the room, desperately trying to soak up the details, all those little things that would be gone.  
_Look at how when light enters the room, it glows in that spot and leaves that corner alone. Look at the slight indentation in the wood of my desk from where I always rest my elbow. Look at the texture of the walls. Look at the richness of the curtains, how soft they are._  
Soon, far too soon for comfort, you wouldn't be able to see the "mundane" parts of life, small things that once seemed boring that were suddenly masterpieces because they existed. The helpless feeling was seeping back into your head, and you gripped the bed, steadying your breathing.  
_In, out. In, ou-oh god, I'm going to hell and there's nothing I can do, no one who can save me._  
Your attempts at controlled breathings became useless and panic gripped your head and refused to let go. You couldn't get enough air into your paper lungs and you felt, strangely, like a paper doll lying on a paper bed. Your vision swam with fear and the only thing you could think about was the complete loss of control you had in _anything_ in your life.  
You curled into a fetal position and the overwhelming panic drifted away, but the feeling was still there, would still be there until you died. You buried your head in your arms.  
_Dead. What a terrible word. No longer existing, gone. Gone forever, and never coming back._  
The date was coming up, and it was in just a few more days. You had ripped your calendar to shreds in an attack of complete panic, but you still knee. You couldn't escape a reality as big as that. This wasn't a dumped boyfriend or an overdue bill. This was, quite literally, life and death.  
Somewhere in the bunker, you heard a fluttering of wings. You wiped the tears away and made yourself presentable as best you could before leaving your room to find Cas. He couldn't sense you anymore and had to always poke through the bunker before he could find you. You thought it was kinda cute, seeing him look in every room and frown at not knowing where you were. This time, you came right to him and spared him the ordeal of searching for you. Cas smiled gently when he saw you approaching, but the smile turned into a concerned frown as you got closer.  
"Y/N, what's wrong?"  
You said nothing, just wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close to you in a warm hug. You buried your face in his trenchcoat, soaking in his very being. You didn't realize you were trembling until you felt the angel's sturdiness.  
Cas was stiff before closing his arms around you as well and letting you hold him. His hand awkwardly tried to stroke your hair, probably another result of watching romances on TV, but the movement, though sweet, tickled your back. Cas smelled like lightning, static and rain. You inhaled his smell, never wanting to leave his arms, but you eventually pulled away and let him study you.  
"Y/N, please tell me what's wrong."  
You swallowed hard and shook your head, mainly because you knew you would burst into tears if you tried speaking.  
"If you don't want my help, I will leave," Cas said, eyes sad.  
"I do," you whispered. Tears pricked your eyes.  
Cas took your arm and gently pushed you into a chair and sat next to you.  
"I…I don't want to die," you whispered, voice breaking. "I don't want to go to hell, if that even exists. I don't want to not exist." Your attempts at holding back your tears had failed.  
Cas' eyes were full of sympathy, and it looked like it hurt him to see you in pain.  
"Y/N, I don't know why my Father created death, but I can tell you, I will find a way to bring you to heaven. I can tell you that." He took your hands. "As long as I am alive, I will never stop trying to bring you back. You mean too much to all of us too let go that easily."  
Your shirt was wet and you were hiccuping, but this time, the crying wasn't all panic and despair.  
"My Father may be missing, but He cared about His creation, and no being that He created ever truly ceases to exist."  
He took your hand gently, and you managed to smile through the tears.  
"Thank you, Cas." You pressed a kiss into his cheek and he drew you into a warm hug, full of comfort. You don't know how long you stayed there, sniffling and twisted over the side of the chair to hug your angel, but when you finally pulled away, you felt calmer.  
"Where is Dean?" asked Cas, standing up and looking around for the older hunter.  
"Oh, he went to get food, like beer and stuff," you explained, hoisting yourself up. You wiped away a few stray tears with your sleeve. "They don't get great food, though, nothing nutritious, so I usually go with them to make them get real food. Couldn't really go today, though..."  
The angel nodded. You nodded back awkwardly and broke away from his intense gaze. Cas's eyes were intense without trying, and one passive look always seemed to be drilling straight into your soul. Probably was. You wondered what it was like for angels to come down to earth. Did it seem especially dirty to them? Did they get covered in humanity's sin the same way humans get covered in dirt?  
The purring engine of the Impala interrupted your wandering thoughts. You turned to see the bunker door unlock and Dean stroll in, holding a carton of beer in the one hand and a plastic bag in the other.  
"Honey, I'm home," he called, grinning as he saw you. "You okay?"  
"Yeah, I'm fine." Your face, you realized, was probably a pretty clear indicator of your previous meltdown, and you scrubbbed at your still sniffling nose.  
Sam came inside, holding a few more bags. You helped them unload and frowned at the very small amount of green foods.  
Cas acknowledged Dean's existence in the way that most people saw as strange but you knew was more. Dean never saw the way Cas looked on for a few seconds too long, or how he always would save Dean over himself.  
_Choose a female vessel next time, Cas,_ you thought, watching Cas with pity.  
"Sammy, you want to find us a case? I'm getting bored sitting around here," Dean said, popping the top off a beer.  
You couldn't help but snort. Dean had done nothing but hunt since you told him about the deal.  
Sam shook his head and made a face, but set his computer up anway and you could see he was already browsing his weird sites or wherever he found reports of mysterious murders. His face lit up.  
"Dean, check this out. Lincoln, Kansas, a bunch of murders. They're saying it's a wild animal, but the moon cycle is right and it sounds just like a typical werewolf. No hearts, no suspects." Sam leaned back and let his chair tip onto the back two legs. "It's only a few hours away. We could be back by tomorrow. What do you say?"  
Dean nodded and took a swig from his bottle of beer. Sam was already standing up and packing his laptop into the bag. "We already have the supplies in the Impala from the last case. We can leave now, or we could wait a while..." He glanced at you.  
"Let's leave now." Dean finished the bottle, tilting his head back and guzzling.  
"You know, I think Bobby said a few hunters lived in Lincoln. Maybe we could stop and talk to them."  
Dean shrugged. "Awesome. Y/N, you coming?"  
You shook your head. "I'm gonna skip this one. Have fun, though," you answered. Dean made a face.  
"We'll be back before you know it." He grabbed his knife and headed back towards the door. "See you."  
Sam slowed down as he passed you. "Sorry for leaving you alone for all this time." His eyes were puppy like and soft. "Dean's got his own way of dealing with things. He does care, he just doesn't know how to express it well. So he's avoiding the subject."  
"It's fine, Sam. Go hunt, OK? Don't worry about me."  
Sam smiled tightly and gave you a quick pat on the shoulder before leaving. You waved throuh the window as the boys ducked into the Impala and drove away into the woods.  
"That was fast," you said aloud. "They just don't stay anymore."  
Cas had vaporized at some point, and you felt the empty pain of loneliness growing.  
_I just need to keep myself busy and not think about...it. There are some shops in town that I'll check out. I could use some new shoes._ Even though you knew you were in denial, you didn't care. You shoved the dark thoughts in the back of your head and started getting ready to go shopping.

You came back from town, after browsing various shops, to the empty bunker just as the blazing sun set and the moon started to shine.  
_If I didn't live here, I would be so scared of this bunker,_ you thought.  
It was completely dark, and you flipped the ancient switch on. Inside your room, you fished the ripped calendar out of the trash and pieced it back together with tape. You had five days left. You shook your head, trying to think of something else. What does one do when he has a known time of death? It was getting late and you felt the strain of the earlier meltdown dragging you down. You took a luxuriously long shower with good water pressure and flopped into your bed with clean pajamas. You faced the wall, emptiness resounding in your bones.  
_Dean might care, but I would love if he could show it a little more._ From the corner of your room you heard rustling and you sat straight up, heart pounding.  
"Hello?" Your hand found the knife under your pillow. A figure walked forward and you realized it was only Cas. You slumped into bed with relief and let go of the knife clenched in your fist.  
"You scared me."  
"Why?"  
You waved your hand in a dismissing gesture. "I dunno, I thought you were a monster or something." _Or Crowley._ You felt your heart beating through your skull and you wondered if he could too.  
Cas smiled gently. He used to never smile, but now, it seemed that he knew you were terrified and was trying to constantly comfort you. "I wanted to check on you."  
You couldn't help but blush, even though you knew he meant it only as a friend. "I'm fine. Really, you shouldn't worry about me."  
Cas sat down on the bed. "If that is what you want. It seems to me that when a human has a terminal illness, he surrounds himself with family and friends, those he cares about, in his last days. It's not a sign of weakness to want someone to care."  
You looked away. "Yeah, I know. I just don't know if I'm ready to fully accept it," you said softly. "I don't want anything to change. When I die, I want it to be a normal day and then just have it be over. I think it'll hurt more if everyone starts acting super loving and goes out of their way to do things. It'll hurt more because there'll be more here to lose. If I don't love anyone, it won't hurt to leave, right?" Your voice broke and tears startled to push against your lids.  
"But I know you feel love for several people, Y/N."  
You nodded wordlessly, tears dripping off your nose. Cas pulled you into a hug, cradling you gently. The sound of his vessel's heart beating pounded against your own chest.  
_I'm so sorry, Cas," you thought. I'm sorry I had to erase all the memories. I'm sorry Dean will never love you. I'm sorry I love you in a way that you don't feel._ When you felt air against your tongue you knew you were saying the words aloud. You tucked your head under his chin and fell silent. You sat with him in the dark, feeling his pulse against your chest and breathing in rhythm with him.  
Cas pulled away and stood abruptly.   
"Cas? Is everything okay?"   
"I'm sorry, Y/N, but something is happening in heaven. I'm not sure what, but I hear commotion. I will be back soon." He touched your hand briefly and before you could say anything, disappeared with a flapping of wings.   
"Asshole angels." You slouched into the pillow, the tears on your face drying into resentment. You turned over and burrowed into the sheet s, realizing just how tired you were. You hated being alone in the whole bunker, and even more so in these last days. You felt as if you should be out climbing Mt. Everest, but instead you were sitting in an ancient bunker in Kansas, sobbing away the hours. You couldn't help but scoff.   
_Oh well._   
The silver gun in your drawer was not just for decoration. You had very clear intentions of not being ripped to shreds horribly by a hellhound like dogfood, and instead simply swallowing a bullet. You shivered. __  
Makes something sound so nice. Oh yes, I swallowed a bullet. Why don't they just say it like it is? Blew my throat out with a bullet.  
You planned to do it somewhere nice, maybe find a nice, peaceful forest. You would leave a note for the boys and you knew they'd understand you wanted to go out with some class.   
_Will they understand?_ You couldn't imagine how Dean would react, and you were pretty sure they don't show you in hell. _I'm sure he'll be fine. He's forgotten most of our time together…Sam will probably be fine. I wonder what Cas will do. Probably move on. He made that big speech about saving me and shit but I doubt he really will._   
You yawned again and pulled a sheet over your head. You were too tired to think anymore. The moon shone through the window onto the dresser as you drifted off, and to you it seemed like a spotlight on your death.


	32. In Which Your Sun Burns

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so short. More after I come back.

Time was running out. Sam and Dean had returned and puttered around the bunker until this morning. You stayed in your room, shaking like a rabbit hiding from a bear. Dean's face was rotting and ripping itself apart; Sam's limbs twisting and falling off his body in a bloody mess; Cas's bones jutting through his skin everytime you looked at him. You knew these were just hallucinations, but it didn't help your panicked state. Sometime today, you would die. You were so scared you could almost smell your fear in the air. You refused to talk to Sam or Dean. Cas said nothing, only gave you a few pitying looks before leaving. You had decided to send the boys out somewhere, maybe set up a fake case with some friends you knew, pull a few strings to get them to leave before you drove out to the forest and died. You didn't think of it as suicide; you were dying anyway, this was just a less painful way. You had talked to Cas already, and he would bring your body back to the boys. In your note you were detailing the burial. Burned in a pile of leaves. No coffins. It was poetic, you thought. The leaves were all a dark orange and coated the roads. You could just lay down and shoot. You hoped you would have the courage. Neither of the boys would find out how you died until they came back, and since you hadn't told them the specific date of when the deal ran dry, you hoped they wouldn't be upset. You didn't want to die knowing they were upser at you. You added a few lines of explanation in your increasingly lengthy note explaining that you really, really, _really_ did not want to die, and this was _not_ suicide, but you didn't want to be brutally ripped apart and mangled to death by invisible dogs. It was reasonable, you thought. 

A girl you had met some months ago, a hardened hunter by the name of Ellie, had agreed to call Dean and ask for "backup" on a tough case that didn't exist. She would lead him and Sam around town, looking for "clues" for about an hour before receiving a fake call from the "head of police" (really her brother) saying they had caught the killer. By the time the brothers came back, it would be over. You hated how much deception had to go into your life, even your death. In the letter you had used most of the paper telling them about the memory incident. You doubted they would believe you, but you had a grain of hope, and that was enough. You had discussed the whole scenario over the phone several days ago while Sam and Dean were outside, tending to a broken window in the Impala. Ellie thought your plan was insane and very frankly told you to just shoot yourself in the bathroom. You had considered the option, but you couldn't do that to the boys. They still had to live there, and who wants to have a bathroom that you can still remember used to be decorated with the dripping brain matter of your best friend? No, the bunker was your home, and it seemed wrong to do something so terrible in your safe home. It had taken a fair amount of coaxing, but Ellie had agreed. Now you were just watching the clock and burning your time writing down your last words on paper. You were starting to have second thoughts about your decision when the phone rang. Your heart stretched out against your ribcage and you gripped your chair. No turning back now. You heard Dean's voice below, and a brief, muted conversation. Just as he hung up and called for Sam, you worked up the nerve to grab the gun and tuck it under your desk for later. You heard the conversation as you approached, and everything was going to plan-- _shit_.  
"Dean, I should stay with Y/N. She's been acting strange and there's only a few days left." You ducked into the shadows, still listening intently.  
"Sam, the girl--Elle? Ellie. She says she was friends with Y/N and it sounded serious. If you really don't want to go, then don't." He looked around quickly and then leaned in close to Sammy. "But don't bang her while I'm gone."  
Sam's face turned into one of utter disgust and any other day you would've laughed. Your heart pounded. If Sam was staying, you would have to have an excuse to leave.  
_Whatever._ Dean walked away and started the usual drill of checking the guns and packing the knives as you strolled in, desperately trying to seem casual.  
You eyed the guns. "Leaving again?"  
"Yeah. Sammy here's staying behind. I don't know why. He's being a real pussy these days." Dean closed the gun case and passed right by you, brushing against your arm and whispering, "He's either scared or wants to get in your pants."  
You faked a shocked look as if you hadn't already heard the lame joke. When Dean walked behind you you rolled your eyes and Sam chuckled. You said 'goodbye' to Dean and went back to your room, wondering what to do. You couldn't leave the note in plain view of Sam, so you just left it in your room. They would find it easily. You slipped the gun under your waistband and tiptoed down the hallway. You started to open the door when a voice behind you stopped you.  
"Where're you going?" Sam's voice was almost too casual and you jumped.  
You turned. "God! I didn't see you there. I'm, um, going to the store."  
"The store?"  
"Yeah! We're all out of...carrots," you finished, mumbling the last word.  
"Well, we can't take the Impala and your car isn't here. Do you want me to walk with you? This part of town be a little dangerous." He reached out and took your arm.  
You resisted the urge to roll your eyes again and instead tried to yank your arm free. "I think I'll be fine."  
His grip tightened slightly. "I insist. Wouldn't want you getting killed before your time, huh?" His laugh was hollows and you froze.  
"You know what? We never eat carrots. Never mind." You turned on your heel and strode away, taking long, fast steps. His gaze was boring into your back, and you shivered. 

Darkness was falling when you slipped out of the bunker. Gun heavy on your hip, you jogged out to the woods. You had told Cas exactly where you would be--next to an old swingset. By the time you reached there, the sun was nearly set and the moon peeked from behind the thick trees. A cold wind slid around you and you shivered, pulling out the gun. It shone in the moonlight and a tear dripped onto it. You swallowed hard and bit your cheek.  
_It's this or mauling._ You heard growls from farther away, but it was getting closer. You held up the gun, feeling the cold metal against your scalp. You closed your eyes, tears running down your face.  
_I'm so sorry,_ you thought. You pulled the cold trigger. 

You froze and opened your eyes. _I'm not dead._ You pulled the trigger again, but heard only the click of an empty gun. You screamed in rage, throwing the gun down. The growls were louder.  
_I checked this this morning! No one could've--_  
Sam. The realization of the situation dawned upon you. He hadn't been outside during your phone call with Ellie. When you went to wish Dean off, he found the gun and emptied the gun. Crunching leaves startled you, and Sam walked out of the shadows.  
"Y/N," he started. His voice broke and tears were running down his face. "Why?"  
"I don't have a choice, Sam. It's today. I can hear them. I don't want to die, but I don't have a choice. I know you meant well by unloading the gun, but it doesn't matter." You opened your pocket and felt a cold metal meet your hand. "I have a backup." As the words left your lips, you brought the gun up to your head and readied yourself. "I'm sorry, Sam."  
Time slowed. The hellhounds burst through the trees, Sam screamed your name and leapt towards you, and up in the sky, a lone shooting star fell. You pulled the trigger.


	33. In Which the Sun Sets Peacefully

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bruh. It's done. Yippee. Hope you enjoyed this melodramatic mess of a story.

It wasn't as bad as you had expected. You were expecting fire and brimstone and being ripped from limb to limb. Instead, only darkness surrounded you. Hm. Maybe Dean was wrong about the torture. You couldn't see your limbs, or for that matter, feel them. _Maybe the torture will start in a minute, and this is just an intro. One last moment of non-hell._ You weren't exactly eager to start being tortured, but this waiting made you anxious. You walked foward after a moment and reached out in front you. Nothing solid was there. You walked further, then turned around and looked up. Nothing. _This is strange,_ you thought, frowning. A feeling in your gut was beginning to grow, a feeling like you had been cheated, like something was terribly wrong and no one had told you. You dropped to your knees and patted the "ground". It was such a strange feeling, like floating but on something solid. Your hands didn't touch anything solid, but you had to be on something, because you weren't falling, right? 

...right? The uneasiness in your stomach grew, along with a sense of almost indignation. All this, or lack thereof, was like playing a game and expecting something at the end but ending with nothing. You shouted out, listening for an echo, but the sound ended as soon as it left your mouth. You briefly wondered if claustrophobia could be a cause of death before you remembered you were already dead. You laughed, a short, bitter laugh that made you cringe at the pure cynicism in something that was supposed to be joyful. You looked down again, and remembered how in all the movies where people are in weird situations they could imagine doors and shit to get out. You closed your eyes and imagined a light door in front of you, but when you opened your eyes, there was nothing. You grunted in frustration, and shivered at the lack of echo. A twinge in your lower left arm startled you. _What's that?_ you wondered suspiciously. The twinge grew a little stronger, and when you touched your arm with your other hand, it was mitten-in-a-microwave warm, and you couldn't help but be curious. Was the air getting hot? You walked to your left and started feeling around, although like all other attempts, you felt nothing. You continued to walk and poke around this completely empty black area for what you assumed was a few hours, but it was so disorientating walking in complete, silent darkness it may have only been a few minutes. The unnerving blackness was begining to take a toll on you physchologically. Maybe this _was_ a form of torture. Let you walk around in complete silence until you drove yourself insane. You froze, chills running through you. _That doesn't sound like Lucifer's style,_ you reassured yourself. The walking, though not on anything solid, was beginning to make your legs tired and you yawned in spite of yourself, sitting down for just a minute. After a little while, you found you didn't have the willpower or the emergy to stand back up and you lay all the down on the non-existant ground. You couldn't tell whether your eyes were open or closed, but you managed to drift off anyway, letting your subconscious do the worrying.

Your hand was on fire. You screamed, shaking it violently, but it was bound in tight red rope and stretched out over a gaping abyss. The fire crawled up your arm and your shoulder, leaving charred sticks of your once elegant fingers. The rope still hung onto the blackened bones that were visible through the burnt strips of flesh still left. You couldn't stop screaming, and the fire was getting closer, caressing at the bottom of your jaw. You tried to move your hand, to brush away the fire, but the chunk of charcoal you might've once called your arm was no longer responsive, no matter how hard you tried to move it. It burned through your throat and closed your mouth, through one might call melting of the lips. The burning ripped through your flesh and your vision went dark as the flames left your eyeballs a mangled white liquid in a deep ashen skull. You were sure you were about to die. You couldn't see or breathe, and you heard a high pitched ringing noise through the remains of your charred ears. Your chest was burnt open and you could feel the air brushing against your rib cage and torn open lungs. You lay suspended over more fires, twitching and smoldering as you felt the movement in your exposed chest beat erratically and stop.

You jerked awake, heart pounding--thank God for that--clutching at your face and arms as feeling rushed back into your limbs. _Just a dream. It was just a dream._ Your arm was still hot to the touch and you couldn't stop shivering despite how hard you were sweating. You stood up, uneasy on your legs like they weren't yours and your old ones had been burnt in hell. Your stomach growled and you realized you hadn't eaten in hours. Days? You had no idea how long you had been here--wherever "here" was. Could you starve even if you were dead? You fumbled around in the dark, still searching for anything solid. You desperately wanted to feel a rock or a wall and you longed to touch Sam or Dean's soft flannels. The darkness was still there, completely exposed for all it was: empty. You kicked the floor, or cloud, or whatever you were standing on. You didn't feel anything with the kick. You contained to walk forward into the looming dark, ignoring the burning in your hand and gnawing of your stomach for now.

You clutched your stomach and groaned. You could feel your ribs jutting out so much you could've played yourself as a xylophone. Every night, or what you thought was a night, you had been haunted by disturbing dreams of torture. You were starting to see strange things, like seeing a wound gushing blood on your arm out of the corner of your eye when there was nothing. You judged each day by when you were too exhausted/starving to continue. It had been almost nine. You weren't thirsty, luckily, but your lips were still chapped and peeling. You knew one could survive for months without food, but you didn't particularly want to see if that was true. You weren't really getting anywhere. The hunger, weakening your legs, made you tired much more quickly than you would be otherwise. A wave of empty pain shook through you and you sunk to the ground, burying your face in your knees. You squeezed your eyes shut. There was a ringing getting louder every second, but you were getting used to tinnitus. It was becoming deafening and you looked up. The blackness was fading away to an unbelievably white light that hurt your dark adjusted eyes. You scrambled back into the patch of darkness still left, half terrified, half curious.

The black you were in melted away, and something like a giant hand reached out to you. The light was formed into something not in the shape of a hand, but more like the idea of a hand, a hand dragging you out from underwater. You stood up, cautiously reaching out to touch it. Your hand passed through the light.  
_What's the worst that could happen?_  
Before you let yourself answer that question, you gripped the light and held on tight, this time the light becoming solid and squeezing your hand firmly in its warm grasp. It started to rise, slowly and then so quickly you thought you might be sick. Your hand was getting uncomfortably warm. You couldn't really see now. Everything was a blur of color and pure static. Your hand was burning now, like holding a hot pan on an oven, but you couldn't let go. You closed your eyes and grit your teeth and the hand pulled you who knows where. Your whole body was burning now, and the hand started pulling faster. You opened your eyes, just as a wave approached you and overtook your vision.

Something scratched your foot. You blinked the dust away from your eyes. Your throat was raw. You sat up on your elbows, looking around. You were laying barefoot in a yellow grassed field surrounded by hills. You heard footstes behind you and you lazily craned your neck around. It was so nice and warm, and the dirt was soft. A light figure stood behind you. It stepped out of the direct sunlight and your eyes widened.  
"C....Cas?" You whispered, bewildered. You never thought you'd see him again. "Where am I? Where was I?"  
Cas reached a hand down to you and you took it. Your hand had an dark orange burn mark in the shape of a hand--a hand that was exactly marching up to the long fingers of Cas's hand now.  
"Cas, did you..." Your voice trailed off. Dean had told you about Cas dragging him from hell. "Did you pull me out?"  
He helped you all the way up until you stood a few inches away from him. You searched his completely neutral expression for signs of confirmation.  
"Where are we now?"  
You turned away, looking around. "Is this Utah?"  
When you looked back at Cas, he was smiling.  
"This is not Utah, nor any place on your world."  
"What? C'mon Cas, you're being wierd." You laughed awkwardly. "Where are we?"  
"Y/N, do you believe in heaven?"  
The breath caught in your throat.  
"We're...in heaven?"  
He nodded. You glanced around. "Is this my heaven?" Dean had explained heaven already, and you wanted to meet Ash and Jo. He nodded again. You couldn't help it. Tears welled in your eyes, but like never before, these were tears of joy. You reached forward and hugged the angel and around the neck. His arms wrapped around you rather stiffly.  
"Thank you, Cas," you said, your voice muffled by the coat you were burying your face in. You stepped back after a few seconds.  
"I managed to block out most of the torture by trapping you in your subconcious until I could get there, but there's still some physical evidence." He touched your arm, filled with burn marks and raw scars, and healed it. "You'll be able to see Sam and Dean from here." He motioned to a little window floating a few feet away you hadn't noticed. "If you need anything, just think it." He sighed. "I'm not supposed to do this, but here's a door to visit other heavens." Cas stepped aside to show a dark wooden door. "Y/N. I'm sorry I couldn't bring you back to Sam and Dean. You had no soul there and I didn't want to repeat what with Sam. They'll be here soon, sooner than you might think. Time passes quickly here."  
The angel took your hand. "You're a good human. I'm sorry things went this way." His eyes were deep blue, bluer than you had ever seen. "I'll try to come visit you every few years; There's no need to cry," he said, furrowing his brow.  
You laughed, brushing away the stray tears. "I'm happy, Cas. You rescued me. You didn't have to. Thank you for all the good memories, even if no one else has them."  
The sun in your heaven was starting to sink. Cas stepped back and dropped your hand. "Goodbye, Y/N."  
"Cas, wait." The angel looked directly at you. "Tell Dean." You knew Cas knew what you meant. After a few long seconds, he nodded. "Goodbye Cas." The angel dematerliazed. You took a step back, looking around your new home. The streaks of purple and orange from the sunset painted your as a canvas as you started thinking. 

"How about a black '67 Chevy Impala?"

**Author's Note:**

> Here's my tumblr so pop questions to me there as well: http://heavenisaplaceonearthwithdean.tumblr.com/


End file.
